Twisted
by EmbersOfAmber
Summary: Sometimes it is the small things in our path that can change our ultimate destination. An exploration of what might have happened if Hawke met Cullen first. FemMageHawke/Cullen AU
1. Chapter 1

Marian crouched in the shadows of Lowtown, waiting impatiently for their contact. The merchant stalls were closed, and the only other people about at this hour were the street walkers hoping to sell their bodies for enough coin to survive.

It was dangerous to travel anywhere in the city alone after dark, due to the rising criminal element from the influx of refugees, as well as the truly desperate that would not hesitate to stick a dagger between your ribs if it meant gaining a few silvers.

The Hawke family had lived in a fair share of poor towns and villages in Marian's lifetime, but nothing to prepare her for the crushing poverty, filth and despair she had witnessed since coming to Kirkwall. Tonight's job was just another routine escort, except this one was coming from Hightown, instead of the docks.

She overbalanced, and nearly fell when Carver's knee bumped against her back...again. She sucked air between her teeth, regretting bringing him along for the tenth time in the past quarter hour.

"Shit, Carver," she whispered, "are you trying to draw attention, or have you still not learned to be quiet?" Marian glared over her shoulder as his expression turned into an angry sulk.

"Pardon me for breathing, sister," he hissed back.

She looked past him to Ryssa, a lithe elf, and Jorson, a fellow Ferelden. She beckoned them both closer, and they leaned in to hear her.

"We need to split up, this is too conspicuous. Carver, I want you to go with Ryssa and wait at the docks until we come. Jorson, you're with me."

Carver glared, but when Ryssa tugged his elbow, he followed her without protest. Marian and Jorson waited in their crouched position a while longer. He inched forward, putting his mouth closer to her ear.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this one, Hawke."

She was inclined to agree. Something felt off, and she made the decision not to wait any longer.

"You stay here. I'm going to work my way closer to Hightown to see if I can't figure anything out. If I'm not back in half an hour, join the others at the docks and we'll regroup there."

She slipped out of the lip of the alley, walking quickly and confidently uptown. She was nearly through the gateway to the upper markets when two men came into sight carrying small crates and looking over their shoulders every second step.

_For Maker's sake, what rank amateurs! _ran through her mind, followed by, _Those are small crates for spices._ Hawke shrugged mentally and approached them.

They eyed her uncertainly before she quietly spoke the night's password, and the larger of the two men gave the correct response. She whipped off the cloak she wore and wrapped it around the smaller man, the folds of fabric helping to hide what he was carrying. She beckoned them forward.

They began the trek back to the docks, Hawke's eyes constantly scanning for any threat. The booted slaps against the pavement echoed behind her, and she turned to hiss at them to walk more quietly. The three of them entered a shadowy alcove and she squinted, trying to see into the thick blackness, when one of the men stumbled. She glanced back at the same time a voice rang out.

"Stop right there, thieves!"

Five Templars in full armor stepped into the dim light, and Hawke's heart jumped into her throat, then tried to drum its way out of her chest. Survival instincts kicked in, and she melted sideways toward the darker shadows, inching backwards until she had enough space to turn and run.

She made it out of the narrow lane and around the corner before she ran into a wall of hard metal, and arms closed around her in an unbreakable grip. She looked up in a panic, but the man's eyes were unyielding, even in dim light.

Hawke stilled for an instant at the realization that she was well and truly caught. She couldn't even free her arms enough to reach her daggers, and if she could, they would certainly prove to be ineffective against half a dozen Templars in plate armor.

Templars.

She twisted desperately, struggling against his hold, but he only squeezed tighter, choking off her breath and digging the edges of his armor into her skin.

"Don't fight, Miss, you will only make it harder on yourself." His words were clipped and threatening, but he relaxed his hold just enough for her to drag in a much needed breath.

"Knight-Captain, both these crates contain the stolen lyrium. What are your orders?"

Hawke closed her eyes in defeat. The Knight-Captain…and stolen lyrium? _Bloody void. Nothing in half measures_, she thought ruefully.

"Return to the Gallows, and lock them both up for the time being. I'll see to the rest myself, after I deal with this one."

Hawke found herself wondering just exactly how he planned to 'deal with this one'.

"Of course, Knight-Captain." The Templar saluted and the group departed.

He returned his attention to the woman he was restraining, but she was shaking her head vehemently.

"Now then, Miss. I'm taking you to the chantry so I can ask you some questions. Are you going to be reasonable, or do I need to bind you first?"

"I am always reasonable, Serrah. But let me save you the trouble. I knew nothing of any lyrium. I was told the men were carrying spices, or I would never have agreed to protect them. Nor would my employer." She frowned at the realization that someone had managed to pull one over on Athenril, which wasn't an easy feat.

He held up a length of rope, and raised his brows. "Free or bound?"

She sighed and stood passive. "You don't need to bind me. I give you my word I will cooperate until we resolve this…misunderstanding."

The Knight-Captain examined her face carefully, weighing her expression, and finally decided to believe her until she gave him cause to do otherwise.

"Very well." He released her from his arms and placed a gauntleted hand to her shoulder to guide her.

She walked willingly, surprised he made no attempt to disarm her, but his constant attention assured her he would strike quickly if the need arose. They continued silently until they entered the Hightown market area, when his hand tightened on her shoulder, halting her as men came out of the shadows, blocking their way forward.

He addressed himself to the leader of the pack. "Step aside, man. I'm on chantry business."

The man gave an oily laugh. "That don't make no never mind to us, gov'na. This is our territory, and you is trespassing. We're gonna have to take ya to task for that." He flicked a hand at the men around him, and they pulled their weapons out.

The Knight-Captain shoved Hawke behind him, drawing his sword and shield. She looked around, quickly counting ten enemies, and drew out both her daggers. Hawke tamped down even more tightly on her connection to the fade. She couldn't afford to blow her act and reveal what she really was to the Templar.

Shouts and battle cries echoed off the stone walls as Hawke put her back to the Knight-Captain's. His sword and shield bashed and cut while her daggers slashed. Their enemies were poorly trained, but rushed them from all sides.

"Is that the best you can do?" she shouted, after dodging to the side of a lanky brunette's sword. "You fight like an old man!"

He roared in anger, lifting his sword high above his head. Hawke darted in quickly, swiping her blades across his exposed belly in a one-two strike, gutting him. Another took his place, and his life blood spurted from his neck when he ventured too close.

Hawke turned back toward the Templar in time to see five men fly back from him, knocked to the ground and stunned. He dispatched two before they could recover, then turned to smash his shield into the face of the next to attack him.

She pulled a throwing knife from her boot and took aim, burying it in another exposed neck. A familiar battle cry sounded behind her, bringing a relieved smile to her lips, even as she moved to engage a fresh wave of thugs dropping down from where they had hidden along the wall. Hawke glanced over her shoulder .

"Carver, behind you!"

He turned and cleaved through three men with a single blow from his greatsword, then ran to stand next to her, pulling the focus off her and onto himself. In his guarding shadow, she pulled a second knife from her boot, throwing it into the back of one of a cluster trying to overwhelm the Templar again.

"Mari, duck!"

She obeyed instantly, dropping to the ground as her brother spun in a complete circle, felling many with his whirlwind strike. Hawke rolled away from her brother, spinning on her back and kicking a man between the legs, sending him sprawling with an agonized cry.

Blood splashed across her face, flying from the Knight-Captain's sword, and she gained her feet again, winded. She danced out of reach of another long sword, and the Templar stepped in front of her protectively.

Carver and the Knight-Captain dispatched the final few, while Marian leaned her hands against her knees, her sides heaving as the adrenalin faded and she regained her breath. Her brother gave her a questioning look toward the Templar, but she gave a minute shake of her head. The worry faded from his eyes slightly, but he kept his sword out, watching the other man warily. The Templar stowed his sword and shield and came forward with a relieved smile.

"You have my thanks, Serrah. Both of you," he said, looking back and forth between the siblings. "I am Knight-Captain Cullen."

She took a step forward. "My name is Marian Hawke, and this is my brother, Carver."

Cullen looked around at the bodies with a grimace. "It seems crime has been on the rise in Kirkwall of late. I have never encountered so brazen a gang before, not even in Darktown." He sighed and gave Marian a long look. "You are rather skilled for a common thief."

She blew out a frustrated breath and bent to wipe the blood from her daggers before sheathing them. "I told you, I am a guardian, not a thief. We knew nothing of any lyrium. What can I do to convince you I'm telling the truth ?"

Carver's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Lyrium? What is all this about, Mari?"

"We were lied to, brother. The men I escorted were lyrium thieves." She grunted in disgust. "I knew there was something off about them. Always trust your gut."

"I don't know why, but I find I believe you." Cullen stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I will give up on the idea of questioning you tonight, Mistress Hawke…on one condition."

_Oh, this should be good_, Marian thought.

"These thefts have been going on for some time, and it's worrisome. Assist me in catching those responsible, and you will be cleared of any guilt by association."

Her brother's lips twitched in amusement. "The Knight-Captain wants my sister's help?"

Cullen looked confused by the comment, and she sent Carver a warning glare, then crossed her arms. "What would you have me do?"

He stepped closer and lowered his voice, though most of the ears nearby would never again take in sound.

"I think you may be able to find out things I cannot. I'm sure you or your associates have contacts or ways of gathering information?" At her slight nod, he continued. "Anything you discover, bring it to me at the Gallows. I am there every day, or if I am not available, you may leave a message for me. How shall I reach you if I have need?"

She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, feeling his eyes boring into her. "You can leave any message with the barkeep at the Hanged Man in Lowtown. Say it is for Hawke, and I'll get it."

"Very well, Hawke." He nodded in agreement. "You are both free to go, but I will expect to hear from you soon," he said firmly. "Maker watch over you." He started off toward the chantry, and she watched him go with a worried frown, certain he would come after her if she didn't fulfill her end of the bargain.

"And you," she said grudgingly, then turned to the bodies, quickly retrieving her throwing knives, and liberating coins from pockets before she joined Carver for the walk home. It didn't take him long to pipe up.

"Andraste's flaming sword, Mari! You've really stepped in it this time. Maybe you should just go introduce yourself to the Knight-Commander, and have done with it." He couldn't keep the goading laughter out of his voice. With nerves already frayed from the stressful night, she snapped at him.

"Shut up, Carver."

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, then smiled sweetly and wrapped her arm around his. "Your neck will stretch right along with mine if we're caught, so I suggest you take care with your comments in future."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't attempt to shake her off. "I hate you," he muttered, and she chuckled quietly.

"I know, brother, I know. I love you just as much, and did I happen to mention that I'm very glad you came with me tonight?"

He snorted in disbelief, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

* * *

~o~

"A Templar? Oh, Creators, scrutiny from chantry guard dogs is just what we need," Athenril muttered, throwing up her hands.

Hawke frowned, scratching a fingernail against a blood stain on her leather armor. "He didn't seem a bad sort, despite being, well- what he is. If we find a way to give him these lyrium runners, I think he'll leave us in peace." She pinned the elf with a hard look. "You know how important that is to my family, not to mention business in general. Besides, he knows my name and my face."

Athenril paced in the small Lowtown alcove which served as her base of operations for the day. "Alright, alright. You focus on this for now, but be careful, Hawke. The Carta does all the illegal lyrium in town, and if you aren't discreet, we'll have a lot more coming down on our heads than angry Templars."

"Don't worry, discretion is my middle name."

"Oh sure," the elf snorted, "because seventeen bodies in Hightown is the very mark of subtlety, right?"

Hawke gave her a cheeky grin. "Some people just can't take no for an answer. Now, who should I speak to first?"

She gave Hawke an amused smile. "Leara was my contact, so you'll probably want to start with her, but she works out of Darktown, so take someone with you."

Hawke pushed off the low wooden stool she had been perching on. "Is Jorson busy today? His glare tends to keep anyone at a distance."

Athenril shook her head. "Everyone is busy today, especially now that I have to cover for you. Why don't you take Carver? I haven't given him anything yet since he hasn't bothered to report in."

"I'll check in later," Hawke said, with a wave over her shoulder.

Marian stuck her head into the Hanged Man, her eyes going to the far corner, and alighting on a familiar face with a sigh. She crossed the floor and poked a finger into her brother's shoulder. He swatted her away irritably.

"What do you want, Mari? I'm busy."

She looked at the three empty glasses on the table in irritation. "Clearly," she said sarcastically. "Isn't it a bit early in the day to squander coin on drink…even for you?"

He smirked and drained his ale. "What else do you suggest I do, follow you around?"

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose, sick of the same complaints, and in no mood to get into it again. "Never mind," she muttered, "I'll take the dog. At least I can count on him to be sober in a fight."

Carver frowned, watching his sister walk out, then shrugged and ordered another ale.

* * *

Marian cursed under her breath as she walked through the tunnels into Darktown, alone and disgruntled. She could just tell it was going to be one of those kinds of days when she arrived at Gamlen's house to find her mother had gone out and taken the mabari with her.

Unfortunately, Gamlen had been home, swearing and railing against everything and everyone, in his usual charming manner. Her mother's absence and Carver's installment at the Hanged Man so early in the day made perfect sense.

She stepped over human excrement, picking her way carefully through the dirt, disgusted at just how far down poverty pushed some people. Amazing, but she found herself suddenly grateful for the squalid dump in Lowtown. It was still a damn sight better than this.

Darktown gave her the creeps, and it wasn't just because of the obvious. There was something unsettling that seemed to float around her, pushing against her magical sensibilities in a sinister way. She remembered her father talking about the discomfort fade sensitive people experienced in a place where the veil was thin or torn. She shivered, trying to ignore the half whispers only mages were subjected to. The sooner she was able to finish her business and leave again, the better.

She kept her eyes down. Avoiding eye contact was an unspoken rule in such a place, and one she was only too happy to obey. Marian finally made it to the center of Darktown's trading hub. She spotted a friendly face and felt her mouth tug up in an answering grin.

"Hello, you handsome elf. Working hard, I see."

His eyes lit up and he pressed her hand between his impulsively. "Hawke. I haven't seen you much lately. Are you keeping out of trouble?"

She lifted a brow. "Of course not, Tomwise. I thought you knew me better than that by now."

He chuckled and released her then looked past her. "Where's Carver?" He frowned. "You aren't down here alone, I hope."

"Not by choice, I assure you." She looked at him from under her lashes. "It seems just when a girl needs a bit of company, everyone is suddenly busy." His blush made her smile widen.

"Wish I could help you out, but I'm no fighter."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Actually, I just need you to point me in the direction of Leara. We need to have a quick chat."

He leaned against the table that held his wares. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the thing that happened last night, would it?" She opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off. "No, never mind, I don't want to know. She's usually down the east steps."

"Thanks." She turned to go, then paused and reached under her leather chest armor to extract a small purse, and slip it to him. "I almost forgot, Athenril said to tell you that she needs more of the same by next week."

Tomwise pocketed the money quickly and nodded. "No problem. I'll get right on it."

Hawke jogged briskly down the stairwell, glancing into the shadows, and frequently looking over her shoulder. She walked the entire lower end, then started back. A small, booted foot stuck out from behind a barrel, and she cautiously went to investigate.

"Just great," she said under her breath. The petite body of Leara was stiff and cold, laying in a congealed mess of her own blood, with her throat slit and eyes staring sightlessly ahead. Hawke closed the dead woman's eyes, then grimly searched her but found nothing. Whoever killed her had already stripped her of anything valuable or incriminating. She stood to leave, glancing uneasily at two dwarves that were suddenly nearby and watching her closely.

She walked briskly then broke into a run when she was sure she was being followed, hurrying to reach the stairs. Hawke slowed and then stopped completely when it became apparent her path out was already blocked by several men. She held her hands out in a non-threatening way.

"Now, gentlemen, surely this is a misunderstanding." She threw down her meager coin purse. "That's all I have, so you really need not trouble yourself further on my account."

The taller dwarf stepped forward and spat at her feet. "You've been asking questions, Ferelden. Even you should know that's bad for your health. My boss doesn't like curious types."

While he was speaking, the other men drew into a tighter cluster around her, and she went through a quick mental list.

_Death imminent- check._

_No other recourse- check._

Hawke sent a telekinetic burst that threw all the men back, and stunned them long enough for her to cast fireballs, burning them alive. The final scream cut off suddenly when she drew her small dagger, slitting the throat of the last of them, and looked around grimly.

_Leave no witnesses alive to tattle to the Templars….check._

She gathered everything of value not charred to cinders with the swiftness borne of much practice, and got the hell out of Darktown.

* * *

~o~

Seven days, and much bad luck later, Hawke stepped off the boat and steeled herself to face the Gallows for the first time since moving to Lowtown. She hated the place, especially hated the sight of the mages who had been made tranquil, and the chilling way they spoke. If there were ever a perfect reason for a mage to avoid being taken to the tower, the prospect of being made into one of those scary, half-people was it.

She straightened her spine and headed for the main courtyard, wiping her clammy palms against her pants leg at the proximity of so many Templars. She caught sight of a merchant selling a number of fine blades and went over to inspect the lot of them. When she had extra coin, she planned to replace one of her daggers with a longsword. Sword and dagger was what she had learned to fight with, back in Ferelden.

She felt a light touch on her elbow and a teasing voice spoke close to her ear. "Looking for me, Hawke?"

Turning around, she felt her breath leave her in a whoosh. The shadowed lighting the night they collided had not done him justice. Earnest green eyes, curling red-gold hair, and a teasing smile, this Templar was…

_A heart breaker_, she thought.

He seemed to be making similar adjustments to her appearance, if the way his eyes lingered across her face was any indication. He cleared his throat and took her elbow again, leading her behind a massive stone pillar which afforded a measure of privacy. She made note of the fact that he was a very hands-on type of person.

He crossed his arms and looked at her. "What have you got for me?"

She licked her lips nervously and his eyes followed the movement, which made her blush. Hawke looked away, cursing her silly, enamored reaction to him.

"Yes, about that, Knight-Captain," she began, but he interrupted her.

"There's no need for formality between us, Hawke, since we're working together. Just call me Cullen."

She looked at him and smiled. "Thank you, Cullen, and you must call me Marian."

They grinned stupidly at each other for several seconds until Hawke recollected what she was about.

"Right," she said firmly. "I think this is going to take a bit more time than we had hoped."

Cullen frowned. "Why is that? Have you not been able to discover anything?"

She rubbed the back of her neck. "I've certainly found a trail. Of bodies, anyway. There were two separate people I went to speak with, and they were both dead by the time I got there. I'm not certain if I'm being watched, or the culprit is just erasing his tracks."

He looked troubled by this. "I hope you aren't taking any unnecessary risks. When we made our bargain, I didn't intend for you to put yourself in harms way. I'm glad you at least have your brother for protection; that eases my mind."

Hawke smiled, and shook her head. "Actually, Carver has been home with a broken arm for the past week. I'm afraid I'm currently a solo act."

"You certainly do seem to be a magnet for trouble, if I may be so bold as to make that observation."

"You aren't the first one to tell me that," she said with a furrowed brow, "but this time, Carver can't blame me. He got himself so drunk that he fell over the guard rail leading to the docks."

"I'm sorry to hear it," he said, repressing a smile.

"Hmmm, I'm just sorry I won't have anyone to watch my back tonight. I have a feeling I could use the help," she muttered under her breath.

"I can be your protector in the absence of your brother. What are your plans?"

She laughed nervously and blushed. "Thank you, Cullen, but I have to blend in, and well," she gestured to his armor, "you have a way of sticking out."

He smiled, amused. "I can change, you know. Templar armor is actually removable, contrary to popular belief."

Hawke crossed her arms, trying not to picture what Cullen would look like out of his armor. "That's not the only thing… " The blush burned her cheeks to the point that she wondered if they would catch alight.

His lifted a brow at her increased color, and she decided to just say it. "Maker's breath! It seems some lyrium has been sold to the Blooming Rose. They mix it with an aphrodisiac to make it more powerful, and sell it to customers that know to ask for it. I have to pretend to be such a customer, in hopes of finding my next lead," she finished breathlessly.

He was quiet, then nodded gravely. "I have heard something about that."

"Really. How have you heard of it?" Her eyes were wide in surprise, then narrowed speculatively.

"I occasionally overhear the men when they gossip. Some of them visit the, uh, young ladies there. Templars have to take lyrium to deal with mages, so I gather this blend has particular appeal." He shifted his weight, his face now as red as hers, and she snickered.

"We look like a couple of tomatoes, Cullen." They laughed together, and the discomfort faded.

"Have you ever been there," she asked bluntly.

"Yes." He instantly realized how that sounded and tried to amend it. "I mean, no. No! Not like that. There was an incident once with one of my men, and I had to speak to several witnesses to resolve the matter."

"Oh, good. Can you give me a general layout, so I can know what to expect? I hate going into anything blind."

He stared at her, imagining her going into that place. Lecherous men staring and groping, and-

"I'll go with you," he blurted. "I-I-I mean for your protection. You shouldn't go on your own."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "How are your acting skills?"

"My…_what_?"

Hawke shook her head impatiently. "What I mean is, could you be convincing if you were to pretend I was your lover? If so, we could just be a couple looking for a new thrill, and not have to worry about hiring whores. That could actually work out quite nicely."

"I suppose I could manage it," he said doubtfully.

Her smile was teasing. "Don't worry, Cullen, your virtue is safe with me. I promise not to ravish you."

"Yes…..ah…. I suppose…yes."

The smile on her lips faded and she looked at him seriously. "You don't have to do this, you know. I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine on my own, I'll just improvise something."

He crossed his arms and looked at her sternly, shaking his head. "What time, Marian?"

~o~


	2. Chapter 2

_**Warning: mature content in this chapter.**_

* * *

Hawke rushed up the stairs leading to the brothel, tugging up the low bust line, and cursing under her breath each time she tripped on the long skirt of her borrowed dress. When she asked Athenril to get her something appropriate to wear to the Blooming Rose, she meant as a customer, not a flesh peddler.

She saw Cullen near the top of the stairs, and she stopped for a moment to stare. He was almost unrecognizable in tight leather breeches, and a billowy white shirt with the laces loosened at the collar bone. She could just make out the fine dusting of his chest hair from the illumination of the lantern he was standing under. He turned to find her watching him, and their eyes locked.

She looked down, picking up her skirt and mounting the last steps until they stood staring at each other. A distracting tension crackled between them, and Marian groped for a way to diffuse it.

"You look nice, Cullen. I think I might have come out better if I had picked my own clothes. I look quite the tart in this." She looked down at the revealing dress.

"You look lovely, Marian." His mouth lifted in a half-smile. "I think I'll have my job cut out for me tonight, just trying to keep other men at a distance."

"Before we go in, I need you to do something for me."

He nodded, eyes serious. "Of course."

She took a deep breath and released it. "Promise that whatever happens tonight, you won't hold it against me?"

He smiled gently and gave her a courtly bow. "I give you my word."

She grinned and he held out his arm for her. "Shall we go in, my Lady Hawke?"

"Ser Cullen, I thought you would never ask," she said, accepting his arm, and pressing close to him, like a lover.

"Just follow my lead," she whispered. He nodded and they stepped into the brothel, and were immediately hit by a wave of cheap perfume, wood smoke and ale. They walked through the foyer and into the main hall where drinks were served and male and female prostitutes awaited customers.

Feeling the weight of many eyes on her she slipped into her role, sending a silent apology to Cullen. She turned to him and slid an arm around his shoulder and laced her other hand into his hair, pulling his head down to her. She pressed her lips against his neck, just below his ear.

"Put your arms around me, Cullen, and look like you mean it. If we establish ownership now, we'll have less trouble. And remember you promised not to hold anything against me."

Hawke was impressed when he pulled her tight against him, and pressed his own lips against her neck, mirroring what she had done. Her traitorous pulse picked up when his breath fanned across her ear, and a shiver ran through her.

"Except myself, of course." She felt his smile against her skin, and a bubble of laughter spilled from her when she heard a voice behind her.

"MMMmmm, I think I might give a free one to get in the middle of that sandwich."

She pulled away from Cullen with a flirtatious smirk, linking her hand with his and pulling him toward the woman in charge.

"I'm Madame Lusine, welcome to the Blooming Rose. Nice to see fresh faces. What can I get you two lovelies tonight? I can accommodate you on all sorts, so long as you have the coin."

Hawke smiled appealingly and stepped forward, keeping a hold of the Templar's hand. She pulled a handful of gold coins from the pocket of her dress and leaned into the madam, lowering her voice.

"A friend told me about something really special, which he says we just must try." She whispered to the madam, who looked at her for a moment before nodding. Madame Lusine held out her hand, and Hawke dropped the coins in her palm.

"Lorraine, come and take these two to the sitting area until their room is ready."

A buxom blonde woman beckoned to them, and they meandered along behind her until they were shown to a small sitting room.

"I'll be back for you directly. Take your ease until then."

Lorraine left, closing the door behind her. Cullen glanced at Hawke, suddenly feeling very guilty over the liberties he had taken, but she gave him a face-splitting grin and came to touch his arm. She spoke in a whisper.

"You're a natural, Cullen. I almost believed we were together…"

Within minutes, the door opened again, and a different girl entered with a tray holding two small glasses.

"Here's a couple of drink with the compliments of Madame Lusine while you wait." She lowered the tray and they each took a glass. The girl pantomimed drinking. "It's better if you throw it all back at once, love."

She watched them expectantly, so Hawke shrugged and gulped the drink all in one go, and Cullen did the same. The girl took their empty glasses with a saucy smile and walked out. Within minutes, an older woman entered the room and beckoned to them. "Follow me, please."

She wound through the back hall until they came to a staircase. She led them upstairs and opened the second door with a flourish, revealing a plush bedroom decorated in deep green fabrics. "Here you are, then. Enjoy."

They stepped through and she shut the door, snickering. They heard a key turn in the lock. Hawke looked startled and ran to the door, twisting the knob. She stood looking at it silently, in dismay.

"Well. That was not at all what I was told to expect. Someone was supposed to take us to a room where they give you the potion from a big goblet. That's where I intended to question…whoever. I wonder why they locked the door…" Her voice trailed off.

She sighed and looked apologetically at Cullen. He was gripping the back of a chair, and there was sweat beaded on his forehead. Concerned, she went over and touched his arm, but he jerked away.

"Cullen, what is it? Are you ill?"

"Marian," he gasped, "I think…I think we drank the potion already. After I swallowed I thought I tasted lyrium, and I- you need to stay away from me." He walked to the far side of the room and leaned against the wall, hunching in on himself.

"Oh," she breathed, now understanding the reason for the waves of heat that were rapidly spreading through her limbs. She shifted, suppressing a moan when the friction between her legs set off a miserable ache inside her.

"What," she said in a quavering voice, "does it do, exactly?"

He laughed bitterly and smashed a fist against the stone wall in frustration. "It turns you into a lust-crazed beast." He rested his forehead against the cool stone and closed his eyes. "I would guess that's why they bolt the door. I always thought the stories the men told were exaggerated, but now- Maker, why would anyone do this on purpose?" He moaned; a low sound of agony.

Hawke watched him fighting against the potion, and her pragmatic side forced her to assess the situation honestly. They weren't in any condition to escape the trap they were caught in, and even if they could, their judgment was compromised.

They had to stay put and ride out the effects, probably literally. The other thing she was certain of, even from so brief an acquaintance- Cullen was not the kind of man who would ever forgive himself unless it was all her idea and doing. He was far too honorable, and would see it akin to rape, especially considering her special circumstances. She saw only two choices: break the Templar completely, or take the burden of dishonor upon herself. The entire night was her doing, and so must the remedy be. Except the kindhearted Templar had to be convinced his actions were helping her, and sparing her from suffering.

_I can do this._

Her eyes fluttered closed, resolve stiffening her spine. She disallowed further thought and concentrated on feeling. The mad rush of blood through her body, the gathering slickness between her thighs soaking into her small clothes. She lifted a hand and ran the sensitive tips of her fingers across the bare skin of her décolletage, opening her eyes and meeting the heavy gaze of the Knight-Captain, still facing the wall but watching her over his shoulder.

She gave him the full force of her desperation, fisting her hands at her sides, her whispered, "Please" drifting across the room. She took one step and then another, stopping before she reached him.

"Cullen, I can't stand this. Won't you have mercy on me and touch me? I swear I'll ask your forgiveness later, but right now I need you." She searched his eyes. "Help me."

The haggard expression he wore changed when a flash of uncertainty passed over his face, but was soon replaced by a look of hungry determination. With his jaw firmly clenched, his feet ate up the distance between them. He fell upon her like a starving man, feeding from her lips, the wet heat of his mouth dominating hers. His hands stroked and touched, inflaming her already raging inferno of heat and need.

She melted into the solid strength of his arms, her wandering hands indulging their own goal of pushing up his shirt and tracing the firm expanse of his chest and the contrasting textures of hair and skin. It was overwhelmingly real. Never in all her fantasies had she imagined what touching a man would really be like. How his sharp angles and planes would complement her rounded curves and hollows.

Clothes fell away to puddle around them, unnoticed. The sensation of skin to naked skin pulling loud moans from Marian, while Cullen chanted her name in a worshipful litany. He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure; her knees buckled and he swept her into his arms, pausing to kiss her again before moving to lay her on the bed.

He rolled next to her, his body a wall of heat and firm muscle against her, and touching turned to frenzy. His hands shook from the violence of his need. Lips and fingers and teeth were no longer enough. He plunged inside her, sheathing himself deep, and she cried out from the fleeting pain of his invasion. His look of dawning horror was more than she could bear, so she pulled him down to kiss her, rolling her hips to encourage him to heed the urgings of their joined bodies.

He whispered apologies against her throat, even while he plumbed the tight depths of her slick sex, losing himself to the pleasures of her body. Wet, rhythmic sounds of skin striking skin filled the room, combined with their moans and sighs, creating a passionate and primitive symphony. Release came frequently and explosively, but there was no time to linger in afterglow. The respite was brief before the potion drove them to seek relief again in each other. Exhaustion trumped at last, and Cullen fell asleep between her legs, his head nestled against the softness of her breasts.

Hawke woke first from his weight on her chest, but chose not to disturb him when she saw how peacefully he slept. It took years from his face, making him appear much younger. She wondered fleetingly just how old he was, and what he had suffered to etch such deep lines around his eyes and between his brows. She stroked his ginger colored curls gently and his eyes opened drowsily.

She stilled, watching his pupils contract- the exact second he remembered where he was and the realization that he was master of his body once more. A part of her was curious as to how he would react, and whether or not she had been successful in making the best of a difficult situation for him. While another, more foolish part hoped he wouldn't pull away just yet. Despite her pleasant soreness, she enjoyed how it felt with him laying in the cradle of her body, their limbs comfortably twined. Stroking a final path through his hair, she let her hand fall away.

He reached for it and pressed his lips to her knuckles, his lids lowering over his eyes and hiding his thoughts. She curled her fingers around his, waiting. When he lifted himself off her, moving to one side, she turned her face away, telling herself sternly that she really did not feel rejected. But although she might lie well when the need arose, she was never any good at lying to herself.

When she remembered the glib promise she had made to him at the Gallows that his virtue was safe with her, she wanted to laugh at her own stupidity. But, contrary as ever, her body offered only tears. She blinked quickly, trying to dispel them, certain that feminine flailings were the last thing the situation needed, but the rebellious wetness insisted on streaking down her cheek. Cullen gripped her chin and turned her to face him, pulling her against his chest when he saw the tell-tale tears. He pressed gentle kisses to her forehead. His voice was quiet and earnest.

"I know I have no right to ask, but can you ever forgive me?"

Naturally, the laughter chose that moment to spill from her mouth. _Bastard body_, she thought, with a final chuckle.

She turned in Cullen's arms to look into his concerned eyes, and felt something melt inside her in the vicinity of her heart. She touched his cheek, feeling the sharpness of his stubble against her palm.

"There is nothing to forgive you for. You did no wrong. I was just feeling disappointment in myself that I broke my word to you. I swore I wouldn't ravish you, and that is exactly what I did."

His laughter broke out, and she watched in fascination as his entire face was transformed by it. She smiled, unable to stop herself, and he lifted her chin again, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss so sweet, it set her insides aflutter.

"Perhaps we might agree the ravishment was mutual, although not of our free will." His eyes turned sad. "I took something precious from you, and for that I am eternally sorry. Had I known-"

Hawke pressed a finger to his lips, her gaze tender. "You took nothing. I gave to you willingly. It might make me wicked, but I'm not sorry, and I don't regret it." She lifted her chin defiantly, and he kissed her nose.

"May the Maker forgive us both, then. I can't find it in me to regret it either."

They lay in companionable silence for a while, his fingers tracing idle circles on her arm.

"How do you feel?"

She smiled against his chest. "I'm starving. I think I'd kill for a sandwich."

"Did I hurt you, Marian?" He asked seriously. She looked up at him, the worried pucker between his brows evident again.

"Only for an instant, and I don't think there is a way to avoid that the first time, is there?"

"I really wouldn't know. My experience is…limited, and I have never before been with an innocent."

She lifted a brow mischievously. "I'm not sure I can be called innocent. Sexually inexperienced would be a more accurate description, I think."

A key turned in the lock and Cullen tensed. When nothing further happened, they looked at each other.

"That must mean it's safe to turn us loose." She scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped from beneath the covers to retrieve their clothing, ignoring her awkward feelings of self-consciousness as much as she could. "I wonder what time it is?"

Cullen looked away from her swaying backside guiltily, glancing at the darkness of the window. "I would say somewhere around the fourth hour. Still another couple of hours until first light."

Marian came back to the bed and dumped the pile of clothing on top. She was back in her small clothes, busy shaking out the dress to put it back on. He rose quickly and stuffed himself into his smalls and trousers. She turned her back to him.

"Can you tighten my laces, please?" Cullen turned toward her, startled, then began to pull and tighten the bindings, finishing it with a neat bow. He spanned her waist with his hands, struck by just how much smaller she was than him. She looked over her shoulder with a smile.

"All done?"

"Yes." He stepped back and reached for his shirt, but she snatched it with a teasing smile. She walked a slow circle around him, making Cullen think of a stalking cat. He smiled, amused.

"Are you going to give that back?"

"Not yet. Will you grant me a boon first?"

His brows rose in surprise. "What would you have of me?"

She bit her lip, feeling just a little silly. "A kiss. But only if you want to..."

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers, his eyes dancing. "My lady. May I have my shirt now?"

She threw it at him with a laughing roll of her eyes and turned to leave the room. He caught her hand and pulled her against him, stopping when their lips were almost touching.

"My lady," he breathed, and gave her a scorching kiss that stole her mind and stirred her body anew. Her eyes opened slowly to Cullen's half-smile, and she felt the same twisting in her chest as before. The green of his eyes had flecks of gold, that seemed to grow warmer the longer she stared into them. He raised his head, but still held her eyes.

"Marian. I know this is…well, I don't even know what to call it. Out of order, I suppose, but I would be honored if you allowed me to call on you."

Her mind flashed to the disgusting hovel she lived in and recoiled at the idea of inviting Cullen there. Part of her was screaming for her to distance herself from the Templar, but she silenced it impatiently.

"I stay with my Uncle, and he's…difficult, to put it mildly. But I would love to spend time getting to know you better, Cullen."

"And I, you." He stepped back with a smile. "Let us leave this place. I'll see you safely home, and we can figure out what to do about the lyrium problem another time."

She nodded her agreement while they finished dressing, and made their way out of the brothel without incident. They walked silently until they reached the slums where Gamlen lived and she turned to bid him farewell. His eyes were sad as he took in where she was forced to stay.

"Good night, Marian."

"Good night, Cullen. I'll send word if I find out anything new."

He turned to go, then looked back to find her watching him. He turned away, smiling to himself. Marian finally walked up the steps to her uncle's shack, feeling like she was floating.

* * *

She crossed her arms and glared at her brother. "Carver, for the thousandth time, I can't heal broken bones easily. You know that's not where my strengths lie."

"Just try, Mari," he whined.

She sighed, softening. "There might be another option, but you will owe me."

"Fine," he agreed immediately, not caring if he would be in debt to her so long as he was back in action.

"I've heard of a healer…in Darktown."

He scoffed and winced as pain shot through his arm. "What kind of healer would be down there?"

"The kind that cares more for people than coin, or so the rumors go. If you want, we can try. We might just end up chasing shadows, but at least you will get out of the house for a bit."

"Yippee, a trip to the filth hole of Kirkwall sounds lovely, sister."

She rolled her eyes, wondering if all males turned into such babies when they were unwell. "That's my best offer, Carver, take it or leave it."

"I'll take it."

"Great. Drink this, and let's go." She passed him a potion to help with the pain, and he grimaced at the bitter taste.

They made their way to Darktown with Carver complaining the entire way. She got them lost twice, blaming it on the fact that all the tunnels and open areas looked the same, repeating the exact same pattern. Whoever was responsible for the design was completely lacking in imagination.

She was following a path she was certain was the correct one when they came to a dead end. Carver was annoyed and in pain; a terrible combination.

"Well done, Mari, I think you've broken the record for how many times a person can get lost in a day."

"For Maker's sake, Carver, would you shut up before I break your other arm. I told you, I don't know exactly where the bloody healer is, or I would have taken you straight there. Do you think I enjoy wandering through the bowels of Darktown!"

A door opened, and a scruffy and bedraggled looking man leaned out, his eyes assessing them both. Marian reached for her dagger, but he held up a hand.

"Sorry, couldn't help but overhear with all the shouting. I'm the bloody healer, so if you want help, come inside quickly. I don't need anyone drawing attention."

He disappeared, but left the door open. The siblings looked at each other and Marian shrugged. Carver walked in and she followed, shutting the door behind her.

The healer pointed to a cot further into the room. "Have a seat there." His eyes flicked to Marian, and his lips quirked up in a smile before he walked over to Carver. "Did she do that to you?" He indicated his injured arm supported by a cloth sling.

She snorted. "Like I don't have better things to do than break my little brother's arm?"

Carver winced when the healer touched his throbbing limb. "Such as running errands to get in the Templars good graces, for instance?"

Marian stiffened, furious at her brother's loose tongue. "Shut. Up. Carver."

Her brother looked at her in confusion. "But he…"

"Shut UP, Carver."

He hunched down in the cot, looking sullen. "Fine, Mari, have it your way. As usual."

The healer listened silently, his sharp gaze flicking back and forth between them. He pushed Carver flat. "I'm going to put you to sleep for a bit. Your arm has started to heal wrong, and I'm going to have to re-break it before I can heal you properly. You won't feel anything, and by the time you wake up, it will be over."

Carver sighed and nodded. Blue light gathered in the healer's palms, and Carver's eyes closed. Marian watched in fascination. It had been years since she had witnessed her father healing others.

He pulled Carver's arm straight and jerked it suddenly, and she winced in sympathy.

"Don't worry, he can't feel anything in such a deep sleep." He gave her a hard look before laying her brother's arm down on the cot. "Do you work for the Templars?"

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, then chuckled. "I most certainly do not work for Templars. Far from it." She watched him, blue healing light spilling across her brother's arm. "It's complicated, healer, but believe me, I'm no Templar ally. My father was an apostate, as was my sister."

"My name is Anders," he said, without looking up.

"I'm Marian Hawke, and that's Carver."

He stood, looking tired. "He'll sleep for a bit. Excuse me for a moment." He walked through a door in the back. She walked over to Carver, but he was sleeping soundly. She noticed a familiar looking book on a desk further back, and strolled over to it and picked it up. She thumbed through it, stopping on a spell to call up a lightning storm. One of her favorites.

Pulling out a chair, she sat and became absorbed in reading, muttering a new spell under her breath to commit it to memory.

"You're a mage?" The surprised voice came from right behind her and she jumped to her feet, knocking the tome to the floor. She and Anders reached for it at the same time, their hands brushing together, a spark of magic jumping between them.

Marian pulled back in shock, looking around to ensure there wasn't anyone else to hear his startled declaration. She met his gaze and realized if you looked past the odd feathery garments and general scruffiness, he was very attractive. She blushed, caught off guard.

"I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself."

"Why didn't you just tell me earlier?"

She raised a brow, wondering if he was really that stupid. "You do realize that if you tell enough people a secret, it will eventually get out, right? I have no desire to hang or go to mage prison, thank you very much."

He put the book back on the desk, and gave her an ironic smile. "It sounds like we think a lot alike, Marian Hawke." He tapped the book. "So. What spell were you trying to learn just now?"

She tilted her head, not sure what to think of this man. "A stronger ice spell. I only know one. It isn't important though. I rely on my blades as much as possible." She patted her daggers.

He looked at them with pursed lips. "You really know how to use those?"

"Oh yes," she said with a laugh. "I doubt I would still be alive if I didn't." She smiled fondly in memory. "A crusty old codger taught me, back in Ferelden."

He nodded sympathetically. "The blight made refugees out of many of us."

"Or corpses," she said quietly, then shook off the melancholy that tried to seize her. "It's time to look forward, not back."

She walked over to Carver's cot and sat beside him, gently brushing his hair off his forehead as she used to do when he was small.

"He's lucky to have you," Anders said with a sad smile.

"I'm lucky to have him too." She hesitated, "but don't ever tell him I said that."

He chuckled and walked to a cupboard, pulling out two small bottles, and holding them out to her. "This will help your brother while he continues to improve over the next few days. Have him drink half a bottle a day. He should come back next week for a final check, or sooner if he somehow injures it again."

She pulled out a coin purse and offered it with a grateful smile, but he waved her away. "Just make sure he doesn't undo all my work."

"That is very noble of you, Serrah, but even selfless healers must eat."

"I'm in no danger of starving, I assure you." Anders extended his hand over Carver and green light flowed over him. His eyes fluttered open and he looked into the smiling eyes of his sister.

"Ugh. I would have to wake up to your face, sister."

Marian looked at Anders. "Sounds like his usual self. Thank you, Anders. If you ever need anything, leave a message at the Hanged Man for Hawke."

She moved off a ways while Anders examined Carver again. Within minutes, they were on their way out.

Anders closed the door and locked it, shuffling tiredly to his desk. He straightened some papers, and picked up the tome Marian had been reading. A bag of coins lay underneath it.

* * *

~o~


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three  
**

* * *

Carver drummed his fingers against the scratched tabletop, his half empty glass of ale pushed to one side.

"That's it then, we're free."

Marian nodded, rubbing patterns in the condensation on her own glass.

"An entire year come and gone," she mused. "All we have to do now is figure out what comes next."

"Well, we have to find a way to make some coin if you're really not going to take any more work from Athenril."

"I know," she said quietly. "Mother has been going on and on about the family estate and petitioning the Viscount since she saw Grandfather's will." She scoffed in frustration. "It will never happen unless we have the gold to make it happen."

"I don't give a rat's ass about the estate." He lifted his drink and drained it.

"Regardless of your opinion on the matter, I think we are agreed that Mother deserves better. We don't want any of us to have to stay with Gamlen a second longer than we must."

"I'll say." Carver chuckled. "Do you know he was so drunk the other night that he walked into the neighbors place? Screamed at the woman to get out of his house before he called the city guard!"

Marian shook her head. "I can't believe we share blood with him. He spends all his time drinking and whoring."

He narrowed his eyes. "He swears he saw you at the Rose last month- with a ginger-haired man." Carver watched her cheeks redden and laughed triumphantly. "I didn't think you would go so far to appease templars, sister!"

"I was working on the lyrium problem, Carver, which we never did find an answer to. It just so happens our investigation took us there for a reason other than hiring prostitutes."

"You know your eyebrow twitches funny when you lie to me, right?"

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Fine. If you must know, I got it on with two elves and a dwarf, and the templar watched. All in the name of gathering information, of course."

"Ugh, Mari," his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Just- ugh. I didn't need that image in my head."

"You asked," she said, and stood. "Come on, I've heard rumors of a prospect for work in Hightown. Let's go see if there's anything to it."

Carver stood and buckled his sword on. "It's not exactly a plan, but it's better than nothing. Lead on, sister."

* * *

Marian scrutinized their new dwarf acquaintance, Varric . "I don't ever remember seeing you at the Hanged Man."

"I'm good at blending into the shadows when I want to." His eyes flicked to Carver. "I've seen Junior here quite a bit. Likes to drink at all hours of the day."

She raised a brow at her brother and smiled. "Doesn't he, though?"

He glared and crossed his arms. "I'm standing right here, you know."

She returned her attention to Varric and tilted her head. "We could use any work you're willing to throw our way. As to the rest…how are you so certain I'm what you and your brother are looking for?"

He leaned closer, pitching his voice low. "I keep my ears open. Athenril would have kept you if she could, and that's even with your unique set of skills. And don't worry about me giving you away, your secret's safe with me."

Her eyebrows rose into her messy fringe. "I suppose some secrets aren't as secret as I thought. Hmmm, alright, but I'll have to give the Deep Roads venture a little more thought before I agree for certain."

"No problem, Hawke, there's still time. Come by tomorrow and I'll have a list of jobs we can get started on."

"We'll see you then," Marian said, turning to leave.

Marian and Carver headed back toward Lowtown and he leaned closer to her.

"Don't you think he's just a little too smooth?"

She smiled in amusement. "It's called charm, brother, in case you wondered." Her smile brightened. "I like him. I think we'll work well together."

"Let's hope you're right."

* * *

The following week found the two siblings sitting in Varric's quarters on the upper floor of the Hanged Man.

"Alright, Varric, I'm ready to do this Deep Roads thing. Maker knows, there are few other prospects." She drummed her fingers against the table where they were seated.

"I knew you'd see the opportunity for what it was, Hawke." He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table. "I've heard rumors of a Grey Warden in town."

"Oh? How could a Grey Warden help us?" Her brow furrowed in thought. "Don't they just fight darkspawn?"

Carver huffed. "I don't see what's so special about that. I fought plenty of darkspawn at Ostagar and Lothering."

Varric shrugged a shoulder. "But think about where darkspawn come from, Junior. Wardens have maps of the deep roads, and that's something we need."

Marian nodded in understanding. "I see your point, Varric. How do we find this Grey Warden?"

Varric stood and walked across the room to strap on his crossbow, Bianca. "There's a woman named Lirene who might have more information. She helps out Ferelden refugees. Word is she runs a little shop not far from here, if you want to go now."

"No time like the present, " Marian said with a smile. They made their way out of the Hanged Man, and across Lowtown to question Lirene.

An hour later, they were walking the Darktown tunnels, heading for the secret clinic where she had taken Carver to have his arm mended.

"Do you really think that healer was a Grey Warden, Mari? He didn't look very impressive to me."

She shared an amused smile with Varric. "Just exactly what do you think they should look like, Carver? Ten feet tall with fire shooting from their eyes?"

He glared at her. "Something stronger than a mage. I bet I could cleave him with a single blow."

She flicked her fingers surreptitiously, sending stinging lightning along his brow.

"What- hey! No fair, Mari."

"You forget, brother, mages don't fight fair." The smile faded from her face. "They can't afford to."

Varric gestured, slowing his steps. "There's the lantern. Is this it?"

Hawke nodded and pushed the door open, entering the dingy place. Anders was healing a small child, and expending a great deal of energy, if the way he slumped against a pillar afterwards was any indication.

She walked over and he looked at her with a small, relieved smile.

"Hawke, I see you got my message. Thank you for coming so promptly."

She looked at Carver and Varric, who were staring at her blankly.

"No, I didn't get any message. I actually came to talk to you about some maps. I've heard you are a Grey Warden. Is that true?"

His eyes narrowed as he glanced back and forth between the three of them. "If the Wardens hired you to bring me back, you're wasting your time. I'm not going."

"I don't work for anyone, and I'm sure your business is your own. I just wanted to know if you had maps of the Deep Roads I could purchase, or barter for in some way. We're planning an expedition, but we need a way in."

He rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. "You offered your help to me before. Would you still be willing to do me a service, with the maps as reward?"

She bit her lip. "That would depend, I suppose. If you want me to kill the Knight-Commander, that might be just a bit beyond my skills."

His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he stepped closer to her, speaking in a half-whisper.

"As tempting as that thought is, that's not what I need. I have a friend who I'm helping to escape from the circle. He fears his life is in danger, so I have to move quickly. I've arranged to meet him tonight in the chantry, but I need someone with me." He hesitated. "In case something goes wrong."

Hawke stared at him with wide eyes. "Meaning if templars attack? Are you _mad?_"

He made a frustrated noise. "Please? I'm not expecting any trouble, I just don't want to go alone. Wouldn't you want someone to help you? What if it was your brother or sister?"

Her eyes flicked to Carver as her mind conjured an image of Bethany. Anders eyes were sad and pleading. "I want to help your friend, Anders, I just…" She sighed, "what do you need me to do?"

He smiled slightly, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Just meet me tonight outside the chantry. We'll get Karl and get out of there. Simple."

He walked away, returning to his patients, and the three of them left the clinic. Marian wondered if it could really be that easy.

* * *

Hawke walked up the stairs to Gamlen's house to find her mother hovering nervously in the doorway.

"Marian! Thank the Maker!" Leandra pulled her into the house and hugged her fiercely.

"It's nice to see you too, Mother, but I've only been out for a few hours," she said jokingly.

"There was a templar here," she said urgently. "He asked for you by name. Oh Maker! You'll have to leave immediately. Take all the coin you have saved and just go!"

Hawke gripped her mother by the shoulders, searching her frantic face. "Calm down, Mother. Tell me what he looked like. Was he tall and broad-shouldered, with green eyes and reddish hair?"

Leandra looked surprised and nodded. "Yes, yes, that's the one. Has he been following you?"

She released her mother and shook her head. "I do know him, but he has no idea I'm a mage. I did some work for him. What did he say he wanted?"

"Oh, thank goodness!" Sagging with relief, Leandra rubbed her brow, trying to remember. "He was very polite and he seemed a bit nervous. He said…he said he would call on you another time." Her mother looked at her in horror. "Marian, you haven't encouraged a templar _romantically_, have you?"

Hawke laughed nervously, wondering just how much to divulge. "It's nothing like that. I believe he considers me a friend. We fought together, and sort of helped each other out of a rather sticky trap. Carver knows him as well. His name is Cullen. He's the Knight-Captain here in Kirkwall."

Her mother swayed on her feet, the shock of the revelation catching up to her, and Marian guided her to a chair to sit down. She fetched her a drink, and watched in concern while she drank it.

"Don't worry, Mother," she said soberly, "I won't let anything harm our family."

Leandra stroked her face gently and smiled. "I know you won't. Just be careful, love. I can't lose you too."

Marian gave her a winning smile and turned to the soup bubbling over the fire. "Let me get you some lunch."

* * *

"Well that certainly didn't go as planned," Carver hissed, shaking the blood from his sword when the last of the Hightown gang that jumped them was defeated.

Hawke's eyes wandered again to Anders as she thought of the terrible chain of events in the chantry. Not only had his friend Karl been made tranquil and used as bait to lure Anders in, but they had been forced to slaughter their way through a half dozen templars in order to escape.

"Come on," she said briskly, turning down another darkened street, "we can't linger."

"Uh, Mari…" Carver's voice trailed off, as they looked at the small group of templars heading for them.

"Wait," she whispered, signaling for them not to draw their weapons. "Let me do the talking." Her eyes flicked to Anders. "Hide behind that pillar. Carver and Varric, come with me."

She planted a pleasant smile on her face that she didn't even have to force when the leader smiled at her. He turned to his men and told them to continue on, and he would join them directly.

"Marian, how do we always seem to run into each other at night in Hightown?" He smiled teasingly. "Nice to see you again, Carver. I'm glad you're keeping a watch on your sister. The arm healed up with no problem?"

"Good as new," Carver assured him.

Hawke stepped closer to Cullen. "My mother is an excellent nurse," she said smoothly.

"Ah, yes. I met your mother earlier when I came by to see you. What a delightful lady she is. I can see where you get your charm from." Carver snorted and Cullen looked at the amused dwarf, standing close by. "I'm afraid I haven't met your companion."

Varric gave a half-bow. "How do you do, Serrah, I am Varric Tethras, at your service."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Knight-Captain Cullen. Any friend of the Hawke family is a friend of mine."

Varric nodded shrewdly, looking back and forth between Cullen and Marian. "I understand the feeling."

Cullen looked regretfully at them. "I'm afraid duty calls, we got word of some disturbance at the chantry. Excuse us for a moment." He took Marian's hand and tugged her a few feet away, leaning close. "When can I see you? It's been weeks."

She turned so her back was to her companions, chewing her lip in thought. "I'm free at week's end. We could take a picnic to the coast, maybe?"

He smiled, already making plans. "I know just the place. I'll come by for you before midday." He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her fingers in his usual, courtly manner, making her blush. "Good evening, milady." He walked away, the clank of his armor fading in the distance.

Marian sighed in relief and beckoned the others. The sooner they got out of Hightown, the better.

* * *

The four of them entered the clinic and Anders bolted the lock.

"Varric, Carver, give me a few minutes please. I need to speak with Anders in private." They nodded assent, flopping onto empty cots to wait. The healer flinched, but headed to the back, with her close on his heals.

She stood staring at him for a long moment. "Care to explain what that blue, glowy-eyed _thing_ was you turned into back in the chantry?" She hesitated. "Are you an abomination?"

He laughed bitterly and then fell silent. "No. But you're close." He explained how he met the benevolent spirit of justice trapped outside the fade, and they decided to merge and work together to bring justice to mages in Thedas.

Hawke remained quiet for a moment when he finished speaking. "You're saying your rage has warped this spirit into what I saw. You didn't really look like a demon."

He started pacing. "He's not a demon, _I'm_ not a demon. I- I don't know what we are, really. I just know I want to do all I can to help mages, but when I get angry….well, you saw what happened."

"That's a noble goal, I suppose. You're very courageous to attempt what you did. I've spent my entire life fleeing danger."

Anders eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, his lips pressed into a grim line. "That's not what it looked like earlier with that templar."

She glanced down, flushing uncomfortably. "That's complicated."

"Does he know what you are?" He touched her shoulder hesitantly.

She shook her head, still studying the floor and he stepped away with a sigh. "I know it's not my place to say, but I don't want to see anything happen to you. It's a dangerous game you're playing. Please, be careful."

"I will."

He walked over to a side cupboard and shuffled through some papers, finally withdrawing a rolled bundle of parchment.

"My maps are yours, as am I if you ever have need of me. I won't forget what you did for me tonight, Hawke."

She smiled ruefully, "Does that willingness extend to accompanying me to the Deep Roads? I could certainly use a skilled healer on such a venture."

He blew out a breath and nodded. "I hate the blighted Deep Roads. But I meant what I said, so if you want me to go, I will."

She grinned widely, and his mouth tugged up in an answering smile. She walked over to him and gripped his arm, her expression fading to sorrow.

"Anders, I'm very sorry about Karl. I wish there had been another way, but it's what I would want done if I were ever made tranquil. You granted him peace."

He covered her hand with his own, squeezing gratefully. "I know. Thank you for your understanding. You've been a good friend."

She kissed his cheek and withdrew her hand. "I'll see you soon."

She walked back into the clinic, holding up the bundled maps with a smile.

"Let's go. I need a drink."

Varric trudged along behind her with a smile. "Now you're talking. I like how you operate, Hawke."

Carver adjusted his sword against his back. "Since you looted the bodies, sister, you can buy."

She pinched Carver's arm affectionately. "Okay, baby brother, but not enough for you to break your arm."

He slapped her hand away, miffed. "Are you ever going to stop teasing me about that?"

Marian laughed and Varric spoke up. "If older sisters are anything like older brothers, you better get used to it, Junior."

Carver brooded all the way to the Hanged Man.

~o~


	4. Chapter 4

_**Warning: adult content.**_

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Cullen shifted the wrapped bundle over his shoulder, a thoughtful look on his face. He had been able to spend very little time with Marian over the past several weeks, which he found difficult. It was starting to wear on his concentration. This would be the first opportunity for them to be together for an entire day. He found anticipation quickened his steps.

It had been a trying week with the mysterious deaths of his brother templars in the chantry. He hadn't known any of them well, but he still mourned their loss. Most of them had been slain by magic, making the event even more ominous. He shook his head, determined not to dwell on it further, for the time being.

He had decided they would take a jaunt to his favored spot outside the city- a craggy bluff overlooking the sea. When the pressures of his duties or memories of the past weighed him down, walking in solitude and breathing in the crisp ocean air always revived him. It was a special place to him. He wanted to share it with her.

Having Marian Hawke come crashing into his life was a surprise he hadn't been expecting. Duty and obligation had shaped his existence. Hardship and difficulties had molded him further, but _this_- this feeling of happiness, stirred previously unknown parts of him. It awoke something that dared to entertain hope and wish for a life with her in it, and a future together.

He found himself wishing he could talk with her for hours on end. She was smart, funny, irreverent in an endearing way, with a straightforward way of looking at things. Marian tried to hide it with humor or sarcasm, but he saw she had a kind and tender heart, and she selflessly devoted herself to the well-being of her family. Likely even including her rather unfortunate uncle who he had caught a brief glimpse of when he spoke with her mother.

The night they spent together should have made him feel ashamed and wicked, remorseful and repentant…but it hadn't. She had absolved him before he ever touched her, and he privately reveled in the memories, turning them over in his mind in the long hours he stood watch. Recalled with perfect clarity the taste of her skin and the look on her face when she was transported by pleasure.

Dangerous thoughts. They made him long to do things _with_ her and _to_ her that he had only ever heard of. Things he had been too frenzied to attempt on that life-changing night. He had his discipline and training to fall back on now, but underneath it all, he was still a man, with a man's needs. He had wet his lips with a mere taste of her on a single night of passion. Now he wanted to drink the entire draught, and take the time to savor and appreciate her.

He squared his shoulders and knocked on the door of the dilapidated dwelling. Carver opened it, nearly jerking the door off its' hinges. He smirked, taking in Cullen's casual clothing and backed up a step, bellowing over his shoulder.

"Mari, your templar is here!"

She came out of the back of the house and walked through the doorway, smacking his head as she went past.

"Ow, you evil harpy," he muttered, rubbing his abused skull.

"Bye, brother!" She shut the door with a smile and Cullen shook his head, chuckling. They headed out of the city, chatting as they walked.

"You make it look like so much fun having a brother," he teased.

She wiggled her eyebrows. "You have no idea. Being an elder sister comes with a special skill set, like espionage and mild torture, not to mention the fine art of blackmail."

"Sounds like preparation for a life of crime, to me."

"I suppose it does, now that you mention it. Speaking of which, Carver and I have completed our indenture. I've started looking at other things." Her brow furrowed. "I don't want my mother living in that miserable slum any longer than necessary."

"What about the City Guard, or Templar training? We're always looking for promising new recruits."

She gave a choked laugh that turned into a coughing fit. "I don't think I'm quite right for either of those positions, but I'm flattered you think my small skills adequate for such consideration."

"You do well enough, and you have a great deal of potential. I can give you some pointers, if you like. I have a lot of experience training others."

She shifted her bag over her shoulder, repressing a grin. "I don't doubt it. I've learned wonderfully thrilling and interesting things since I met you. I would be delighted to learn your style intimately_._ Of course, we would have to practice a great deal if I'm to become really proficient."

He turned his head sharply, expecting to see mischief, but she was looking at him innocently, until she smiled and her eyes sparkled with repressed humor.

"You're- bad."

"Oh? That wasn't the impression I got, but if you want a do-over, I'm sure Madame Lusine will help us out."

He laughed in shock. "I don't even know what to say to that."

She winked. "Say the first thing that pops into your head. That's usually the true response."

He listened to the crunching of their boots on the dirt path they walked, Kirkwall now behind them.

"What would you say if I took you up on that offer?"

"You never would," she said, matter-of-factly.

Cullen smiled slightly, looking up at the gulls flying overhead. "You sound very certain."

Hawke shrugged. "I think you like to make your own choices free of coercion, and would resent anything that made the decision for you. Am I wrong in my assessment?"

He thought about it for a moment. "No, you aren't. There's nothing as terrifying as having someone force their will on you, while you are helpless to resist."

She looked at him curiously. His eyes were haunted. "That sounds like the voice of experience," she said quietly. She reached out and laced her fingers with his, and he looked down at their conjoined hands, squeezing hers and rubbing a thumb across her knuckles.

"I'll tell you about it sometime. Look." He pointed with his free hand out to the sea as they arrived at the top of the lookout. It was like a secret haven. Shafts of sunlight peeked out from behind fluffy clouds, sparkling on the water, and the tall grasses surrounding them waved enthusiastically in the breeze.

Marian lifted her face to the warming rays and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and smiling her pleasure to the sky. "It's breathtaking," she sighed, opening her eyes to see him watching her.

"Very," he agreed, releasing her hand.

"What's that?" She pointed to what he had carried from Kirkwall.

He pulled the long bundle off his back and extended it to her. "This is for you."

She tilted her head curiously, then sat on the ground to lay it flat so she could unwrap the fabric. He sat next to her and pulled a strand of grass from the dirt and twirled it absently between his fingers. Marian made quick work of unwinding the fabric, revealing what lay beneath.

"Cullen," she breathed in awe, lifting the silver sheath to examine it. It flashed brightly with reflected light, a flaming sword emblazoned on the hilt, a single enchanted rune giving the symbol a red glow. She touched it reverently and looked up.

"You're giving me this beautiful sword? Why?"

He gestured casually with his hand, but he was pleased with her reaction. "I think it suits you, and I believe you prefer a blade to flowers."

She looked confused. "Did I tell you I didn't like flowers? I can't remember, but I must have."

He shook his head. "It was a guess based on observation, but it seems I was correct, considering your practical nature."

She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I must be pretty easy to figure out. Sorry I can't be more mysterious for you."

He pulled a handful of grass from the ground, watching it fall from his fingers. "I think it would take a lifetime to discover even half of your mysteries, Marian."

She smiled, an uneasy guilt pricking her conscience. Standing, she drew the sword out, admiring the fine craftsmanship, and stepping far enough away to give it a couple of experimental swings, testing the balance. Decorative scrollwork ran the length of the sharpened blade. Cullen stood and moved to one side.

"This doesn't look like an ordinary sword. You shouldn't have spent so much coin on me."

"I didn't," he said. "It was a gift from the Knight-Commander when I was assigned to the Ferelden Circle."

She sheathed the sword and held it out to him, her gaze skittering away from his. "It must have great meaning for you. I can't possibly accept this."

He closed his hands over hers, trapping the sword in her grip. "It's too light for me. I've never used it, and there's no one else I would rather see wield it. You would do me honor if you took this sword for your own."

"But you," she began, her voice uncertain. He smiled sincerely and she felt an answering grin tug at her lips. "Thank you, I will cherish it." She set the blade to one side and flopped back down into the cool grass watching him fold himself down beside her, admiring the easy grace of his movements.

"Be careful, Cullen," she said in a playful tone. "Giving me gifts and saying such kind things; people will think you're courting me."

Cullen tilted his head and looked at her from under his lashes. "I am," he said simply.

"What?" She heard the loud rush of blood in her ears and the color drained from her face. "But you're a Templar," she whispered helplessly, through numb lips.

"It's not common perhaps," he said, flicking a final piece of grass from his fingers. "but there are Templars who marry."

Her mind immediately went to Aveline and Ser Wesley, but she said nothing aloud, far too stunned by his calm declaration.

He looked at her in concern, noting her pallor. "I'm sorry, I thought you understood my intentions. I should have spoken more plainly as to why I wished to call on you. If your father were living, I would have asked his permission first. Would you have me speak to your uncle, or perhaps your brother?"

Emotions ran riot inside her: elation, excitement, joy, terror, guilt, fear, longing, denial. They clogged her throat with pain and happiness. How could fate be so cruel as to taunt her with such impossible glimpses of a life she would never have? How could she continue this charade? How could she not? It was madness.

"Kiss me, please." Her eyes were stormy and pleading. He slid his fingers across her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her gently with chaste brushes of his lips until she wanted to scream.

"Cullen," she said, her voice nearly a whine when he pressed his lips against the side of her jaw, "_kiss me_, don't tease me."

He looked at her for a span of seconds, then kissed her again, this time sweeping past her parted lips and brushing his tongue against hers. She pressed into him eagerly, overbalancing him and making him fall on his back.

His breath whooshed out and she giggled against his cheek.

"Sorry, I guess I'm a little enthusiastic."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he murmured, grazing his lips down her jaw.

She moved back to look at him. "Isn't it? You've been reserved with me the few times we've met since that night at the Rose. I didn't think you were comfortable pursuing further intimacies." She sat up again, turning to face the sea. "I've tried to respect your boundaries. Even if," she paused with a wistful smile. "I would rather tear all of them down."

A small, surprised sound caught in her throat when Cullen pulled her back into the tall grasses, sweeping kisses of wet heat into her mouth that burned with intensity.

"Then let's have no boundaries between us."

His hands parted and tugged aside her clothing, relearning the curves he dreamed about at night. He touched her now of his own free will, and it was all the sweeter for it.

An alluring ache grew deep inside her core, her body eager, remembering his possession. The blessed feel of his tongue dancing against her skin, and making her quiver in anticipation when he parted her thighs and found slick welcome.

"Marian," he groaned, his hardness twitching inside his trousers, but he ignored it in favor of indulging his other, more pressing desire. He worked his way down her nude body, learning all the places he had been too frenzied to appreciate before. Listening for what made her breath catch in her throat, what made her sigh and shiver. The way her skin rippled when he delved his tongue into her naval, then moved lower. He paused long enough to breath in her dewy scent, licking tentatively at her mysterious feminine folds, then growing bolder when she wailed and thrust her hips against him.

"Maker, Marian," he breathed against her sex. The taste of her flowed across his tongue, ensnaring him in the awe and wonder of it. He pushed against her triangle of dark curls, baring all of her to his gaze. Learning exactly where she most wanted his ardent caresses, and focusing there until she tensed up, releasing a low moan, then shaking and shuddering to completion.

He rested his forehead against her inner thigh, trying to master his lust before he took her like an animal.

"Cullen."

She looked down at him, her smile soft and eyes gentled with sated desire. He climbed back up her body, stopping briefly to nuzzle against her breasts and lick a slow circle around her nipple before suckling eagerly. Her hands held him to her, relishing the scrape of his teeth and the abrasive stubble on his jaw. He returned to her lips, branding her with open-mouthed kisses. She ran her hands down his back, dismayed to realize he was still fully dressed.

"How is it that I'm lying here as bare as my name day, while you still have on all your clothes?"

He kissed her again, leaving her breathless, then sliding down her neck, inhaling the scent of the grass and sea against her skin.

"When I focus on something, I'm not easily distracted," he said, with a chuckle.

Marian pushed him down, looming over him.

"That's an admirable quality. One I think I should emulate." She grinned, tugging his tunic. He sat up enough to remove it and she ran her hands across the muscled expanse of his broad chest. Bending over, she flicked her tongue across his nipple, drawing a surprised gasp. She teased with the tip of her tongue until he pebbled against her, then she followed the trail of soft hair down his body, mapping him with tongue and lips.

"Take these off," she said, giving his trousers a tug, and he helped her remove the last of his clothing, watching her explore him. It took all of his considerable control to lay still under her, but the first touch of her tongue against his throbbing length had him bucking against her mouth, twisting his fingers in her hair when her lips closed around him. The sharp edge of her tooth scraped against his sensitive head, spearing him with pain.

"Ahhh!" He shouted, and she pulled off him, wide-eyed.

"Sorry! What did I do wrong?"

He gestured in embarrassment. "Teeth," he mumbled, starting to move away.

"Wait!" She placed a hand against his hip to stop him. "Let me just try one more time. I'll be very careful."

He tensed warily when her lips closed around him again, but he felt nothing beyond the pull of her tongue and the glide of her lips. She looked up at him as she took him deeper, and that image nearly pushed him over the edge.

"S-stop p-please." She ignored his begging, matching the determination he had shown earlier, sucking him strongly. "Marian, I don't think I…Oh, blessed Andraste!"

His climax tore through him, prolonged by the continued movement of her lips and tongue. His couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of her. He was equal parts embarrassed, fascinated and aroused, when he saw her throat working, swallowing again and again and taking all of his essence into her.

Releasing him finally, she swiped a finger against the corner of her mouth, giving him a cheeky grin before seeking his embrace. He wrapped her in his arms, still stunned by what had just happened.

"You didn't have to do that," he said, when he had recovered his voice.

She kissed his chest and squinted up at him against the bright sunlight. "I wanted to. I liked it."

He thought about it, readjusting his assumptions but still somewhat incredulous.

"Really?" He questioned dubiously. He still remembered as a young lad in templar training, hearing the other boys talk about whores who would take a man in their mouth, but only if they were paid a great deal of coin. He had concluded it must be repulsive to most women.

She looked amused. "Let me put it this way- did you like what you did to me?"

His eyes darkened, still affected by how she had come apart from his ministrations. "Very much."

"You see," she nodded, "I want to please you just as much, and I love how you taste and feel, and how I can make you lose your iron control."

One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he experienced a surge of affection, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. "How is it that an innocent young lady such as yourself would know how to do that?"

She laughed. "Well, I clearly didn't know what I was doing, or I wouldn't have hurt you, but I've read a few Orlesian novels. I'm a curious creature by nature. When someone tells me something is forbidden, it just convinces me they're hiding something good."

"If I didn't know you were jesting, I might worry."

Marian propped up on her elbow to look at him. "Are you telling me you never longed for something forbidden to you?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sure everyone has, but that does not mean we should give in to temptation. There are some things that are denied us for a reason. Usually, for our own protection."

She pursed her lips, her expression inscrutable. "I prefer to judge for myself. Not blindly accept what I'm told. It would be better if more people used their powers of reason than falling back on old prejudice and ignorance."

"That's a pretty strong opinion you have about dirty books."

"I have an opinion on everything, Cullen, some of them more interesting than others."

He pulled her back against him, resting his cheek against her dark hair. "I like hearing them. It's very different than what I was taught as a boy. Was your father a scholar?"

"We had a small farm in Lothering, but my father certainly loved books. He taught me everything I know," she said wistfully.

"I'm sure he was quite a man. I wish I could have known him."

"He would certainly have been amazed if I brought you home."

Cullen's lips twisted ruefully. "I suppose he would have wanted to sic the dog on me for despoiling his daughter."

She poked a finger against his ribs. "I don't know. Father was quite a rebel. He swept my noble mother away from the Amells and ran off to Ferelden to marry her."

"Your mother is an Amell?" He asked in surprise.

"Yes." She stroked her fingers across his chin, enjoying the sharp rasp of his stubble. "From right here in Kirkwall. My uncle lost the estate through his own folly, but my mother hopes to recover it, in time."

"I knew an Amell in the Ferelden Circle. She was a mage."

Marian laughed to cover her sudden fear. "Truly? You know, I have heard one branch of the Amell family has quite a bit of magic in their line." She shrugged.

"She was a fine woman," he said quietly.

She lifted a brow. "That's good to know, but why do I have the sudden feeling I should be jealous?"

"What? No! Nothing like that." He hesitated several seconds. "Well…I suppose I might have had a small crush. I was rather naïve at the time. Templars and mages can't be friends. There's too much at stake. "

The smile faded from her lips. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I can't help thinking it would be better if more people sought the way of friendship rather than conflict." She let her hand fall away from his face to lie passively against his chest.

"You're wrong, Marian, mages aren't people. Not like you and me. They're dangerous weapons, able to light a city on fire in a fit of pique.

She pulled free from his arms and turned her back to him. "Not _people_?" She glanced over her shoulder at him incredulously. "How can you say something like that? Having magic doesn't turn a person into a monster!"

He sat up, running his hands up and down her arms soothingly. "No, I don't mean it makes them monsters, but the possibility of it is always there. You haven't witnessed the things I have. Constant vigilance is necessary for the safety of all."

She laughed bitterly. "I wonder if you would feel the same if you were the one cursed with magic…or someone you loved was."

"I don't know," he shrugged, a small pucker between his brows. "but I saw terrible things when Uldred summoned demons in the tower. Merciless slaughter and blood magic sacrifices. I was imprisoned and tortured for what felt like ages. It very nearly drove me mad the way those mages pushed at my mind and tried to control me."

He kissed her shoulder. "You have great compassion, but mercy must be tempered by justice. Surely you can see that."

Her shoulders sagged at his words. She reached for one of his hands and pressed it to her lips. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Cullen. I daresay whoever did that to you was a sick bastard. You don't need magic to be a menace to others."

"No, you don't, but those with magic are far more dangerous. I can't understand why you defend them so strongly."

Marian pulled her clothes back on with jerky movements and Cullen silently followed her example, hoping the argument was over. He tried to take her in his arms when they were both standing and clothed, but she shook him off, obviously still upset. She paced back and forth, and he stood watching with his arms crossed.

She finally stopped and looked at him, sucking air between her teeth. "Look, I had a friend that was…" She shook her head and paced back and forth again. "No, I won't lie about it. My sister was a mage. An apostate. We hid her for her entire eighteen years of life, and I'm _not_ sorry."

She glared at him. "She was a kind, gentle soul and no danger to anyone, she-" Her voice broke and Cullen took an involuntary step toward her but she held up a hand to stop him. "Bethany was a gift to all that were fortunate enough to know her." She knuckled a tear away angrily. "If she hadn't died, I would still be hiding her and protecting her with my life rather than see her condemned to the mage prison you advocate."

Turning her back to him she looked out across the sea, seeing it through the fine sheen of tears. "You're a good man, Cullen, decent and honorable. We have very different feelings about mages, and that's not going to change. You deserve to know."

She snatched her bag and strode briskly back toward the city, her footfalls fading away. Cullen stood for a long while gazing at nothing, his brow crinkled in thought. Marian had given him a lot to think about. He retrieved the sword from where it had been left and retraced his steps with a heavy heart.

* * *

Marian thanked the trinket seller and walked off, smiling at the purchases she had made for her friends.

"Hawke, wait up!" Aveline walked up, her armor clanking.

"Aveline, I haven't seen you in a while. How's the life of a guard?" She smiled and they fell into step together, walking out of the Lowtown market.

"It's a living, Hawke. I'm more concerned about how you're getting on, now that you and Carver are free."

"Well enough," she said, smiling. "We have a plan and we're working toward a goal, otherwise, life goes on. You should go and see Mother, she misses you."

Aveline smiled fondly. "I was planning to later, when my shift ends. Say, would you be interested if I threw a bit of work your way?"

"You know I'm always ready to make some coin. What's the job?"

She stopped walking, resting a gauntleted hand on her waist. "Come by the barracks tomorrow and I'll give you the details." She leaned closer, speaking in a whisper. "What's this I hear about you and some templar?"

Hawke rolled her eyes and walked off. "Goodbye, Aveline."

The guardswoman frowned. "Tomorrow, Hawke."

* * *

Hawke walked in to Gamlen's house, wincing at how loudly he was yelling at her mother.

"That big mutt just sits there breathing all day. There's never any peace! And you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Marian. "There's a letter and a sword on the desk. I'm not your bloody manservant, you know, waiting to receive your deliveries."

"Of course not, Uncle." She pulled two silvers from her pocket. "Please go and have a drink on me, in thanks."

He eyed the coins before snatching them greedily. "It's the least you can do," he grumbled, then slammed the door on his way out.

Leandra sighed. "You needn't feel you have to give him coin, love. He's always like that."

Marian smirked. "Don't be silly, Mother. I just bought peace for only two silver. That will keep him busy for some time. I consider it a bargain. Where's Carver?"

Leandra went to sit by the fire, taking up the mending. "Only the Maker knows. That boy can't sit still."

Walking to the desk, Hawke was bemused to see the sword she had left behind with Cullen on their excursion days before, with a letter beside it. Her name was scrawled across the parchment in a masculine hand. She glanced at her mother, then took the sword and letter and retreated to the relative privacy of their shared sleeping chamber. She sat on her lumpy cot and broke the wax seal.

_Dearest Marian,_

_We parted hastily the other day before I had a chance to apologize. When I thought carefully over what I said, I understand why you took offense, especially considering your sister. I have no doubt she was as kind and lovely as you say, and I am sorry for your loss. _

_While I cannot pretend to fully fathom the reasons for the choices your family made, I do know they were made out of love. I would never fault you for that. But that's all behind you now, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is not to dwell overmuch on the past. _

_None of what you told me changes the way I feel about you, or my desire for us to be together. I know you have a caring heart, and devote yourself completely to those you love. Should I ever be so fortunate as to secure your affections in such a way, I would count myself a very blessed man. _

_Please don't let this misunderstanding drive a wedge between us. I will call on you again soon, and pray to the Maker and his beloved bride, that you will welcome me with open arms and assure me that you are mine. As I am…_

_Ever yours,_

_Cullen_

_PS I have returned your sword, as you left it behind._

Marian laid down on the little bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm the joyful singing of her pounding heart. She read the letter twice more, running her fingers across the paper.

She had thought when she told him about Bethany, that would be the end of it, and her bruised heart could forget him. It seemed she had underestimated Cullen and his unswerving devotion. She was happy and frightened, which seemed to be her usual cocktail of emotions where the Knight-Captain was concerned.

She turned onto her side, brooding and stuffing the letter under her pillow. Instead of coming up with an effective solution to her perplexing difficulty, she fell asleep and dreamed of green eyes and a warm embrace.

~o~


	5. Chapter 5

_~O~_

* * *

_We've been dreaming_  
_But who can deny?_  
_It's the best way of living_  
_Between the truth and the lies._

_~See Who I Am by Within Temptation~_

* * *

**Chapter Five  
**

Hawke glanced back over her shoulder at Carver and Varric, engaging Merrill, the little Dalish elf, in conversation. She was wary of this new acquaintance, especially considering she was an unapologetic blood mage, but she couldn't see much harm in letting her tag along back to Kirkwall. Especially considering how insistent Keeper Marathari had been that they take her with them.

There was obviously a great deal of tension in the clan surrounding Merrill, for whatever reason, and Hawke had no desire to get mixed up in it. She wouldn't even have come to Sundermount if it hadn't been for her promise to deliver Flemeth's locket; she had already put if off for far too long. Strange the little amulet turned out to have Flemeth _in_ it. There were so many magics she could never hope to understand.

Hawke frowned, puzzling again over the cryptic words the witch had spoken. _Do not hesitate to leap_. What did that even mean? Off a cliff? Into fortune? Riddles were frustrating, and she preferred when people spoke plainly.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned to meet Anders gaze. He looked confused, and the corner of her mouth quirked up, glad for something to distract her from her thoughts while they walked.

"Something the matter?" She questioned.

He shook his head slightly, his tongue coming out to moisten his lips. "I'm just wondering how you do it, is all."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. I _do_ a great many things."

"You feel like any normal mage when you're casting spells, but now," he waved a hand impatiently. "I can barely sense you, and I'm _trying._ How did you learn how to do that?"

A stone went skittering down the path, dislodged by her boot. "I'm not exactly sure," she said quietly. "When I was very young and my father told me how important it was to hide, it made an impression on me." She glanced at Anders who was listening intently. "I remember being afraid someone would know, so I started mentally shoving down on my feelings of connection to the Fade. Like, I don't know- swallowing my awareness, I suppose. It became second nature."

A raven screamed overhead and Hawke watched it fly past, delving back into her memories. "Bethany was never able to do it, so my family came to rely more heavily on me to go out and get things done, confident I wouldn't be detected."

"But I would like to know what it feels like when you shut off that awareness. Can you describe it?" Anders looked at her eagerly, and she was reminded of her father, always the curious and enthusiastic scholar.

She stopped and closed her eyes, probing the familiar knot inside her, trying to think of how to articulate what she did. "It feels like a fist I clench. No, that's not right. Maybe more like a compartment, or box I close the lid on?"

Anders hand touched lightly on her shoulder and his voice was close to her ear. "Can you undo it and let me see if I can sense what you're doing?"

She nodded, still keeping her eyes shut, and slowly began to release the tightly held power inside her. He murmured in surprise and she looked at him, standing entirely too close. He was grinning.

"That's bloody brilliant! Just imagine the possibilities if such a skill could be taught to other mages. I never even considered something like that could be done."

She stepped away from him and cleared her throat. "How about explaining it to me first?"

They began walking again, having already been passed by the chattering threesome, and Carver giving her _the look_ towards Anders. She knew she would be in for a round of his teasing later, and sighed.

"You seem to have formed some sort of rudimentary shield over your magic, or a door you can open and close using your will alone. No wonder you don't fear to move even among Templars. I'm guessing unless you choose to reveal yourself, they would have a hard time sensing you." He was looking at her with an eager gleam in his eyes.

"Before you get any ideas, I have no intention of infiltrating the Gallows as a spy." She shuddered. "The Veil is so thin there, it's a wonder the captive mages don't go mad from all the whispers."

He looked sad. "Many of them do, and are made into Tranquils."

She was sorry to have brought up bad memories for him when his grief over Karl was still fresh.

"Anders, while we're on the subject of magic- do you think you might be able to help me a bit with my healing? I only know one spell, and I'm afraid it isn't very effective." Her voice trailed off, hoping her obvious attempt to divert him wouldn't be seen as callous.

He lifted a brow, but the sorrow slipped from his features. "Are you really interested?"

"Yes." She nodded emphatically. "I can't have you with me all the time. What if something happened and I were the only one available? I can heal somewhat, so that means there should be room for improvement, right?" She looked at him hopefully.

"I can give you some pointers, if you like, but I need to observe you first to see what sort of skill you possess." He looked at their companions walking ahead of them with a frown of concentration, before relaxing. "Carver, could we borrow you for a moment?"

Carver scowled over his shoulder, but turned back to join them. "I thought this was a mage party. What do you want?" He asked rudely. Marian crossed her arms while Anders explained.

"I noticed you have a pretty deep cut on your arm, from earlier. I thought you might like to have it healed."

Carver looked back and forth between them, extending his arm reluctantly to Anders, but the healer nudged Marian forward. She swallowed nervously and lifted her hand above Carvers wound, a burst of power rushing out of her uncontrollably. He flinched.

"Shit, Mari, I think it's supposed to hurt _less_ not_ more_," he said through gritted teeth.

She stopped, flustered, when Anders laid his hands on top of hers. "You're in too much of a hurry. Don't force it. Just let it come out naturally," he murmured. "Gently."

Like a soft sigh, healing power flowed through her hands and into the cut, sealing the skin until it was smooth and perfect again. She laughed in delight. "I felt it! That was amazing. Was that you?"

Carver grunted and went back to join Varric and Merrill, and Anders shook his head. "No, that was all you. I just gave you a slight push in the right direction." He winked and she blushed inexplicably, discreetly moving further away from him.

"So, Anders, what was that you mentioned before, about having a cat in the Deep Roads?"

* * *

The long trek finally ended in Lowtown. Anders headed back to his clinic, while Hawke, Varric and Carver spent several hours finding Merrill a place to stay in the Alienage, and taking her to buy food.

By the time they were done, all Marian wanted was a bath and a meal. Sadly, that wasn't in the cards. When she heard the unmistakable sounds of blade on blade, she nearly turned and walked the other way- nearly. She peeked around the corner and saw a lone woman surrounded by shady looking men, and charged ahead, drawing her longsword.

She was on the verge of gutting a man when the woman yelled at her.

"No, don't kill them, just hurt them!"

Marian smashed the pommel of her blade against his head, stepping back as the man crumpled to the ground in a daze. The woman was holding her blade against another man's throat, and the other three paused, awaiting the outcome.

"Is this really worth dying for, Lucky, hmm?" The woman's voice was a sultry purr, and Hawke felt her eyebrows climb into her fringe at the rather shocking attire the woman wore. The man muttered something, then stood and fled, his fellows quickly following.

Hawke shook her head and sheathed her blade, annoyed by the cut in the sleeve of her tunic that was seeping blood. _Lovely._

"Thanks for your help. Those buggers won't be back. I'm Isabela. Formerly Captain Isabela, but the title sounds a bit daft since I no longer have a ship."

Hawke watched in bemusement as the woman pulled a scarf from around her neck and quickly tied it around the wound on her arm, staunching the flow of blood.

"I'm Hawke. No other title, I'm afraid."

Isabela winked. "What do you say I buy you a pint, Hawke? I have a proposition for you, if you're free tonight."

Marian fidgeted away nervously. "I'm flattered, of course, but I'm afraid I only like men."

Isabela laughed. "Not that you aren't tempting, sweet thing, but I assure you, it's strictly business. I need someone to watch my back for me, and I think you might be just the person I'm looking for."

Hawke sighed, thinking wistfully of her planned bath. "Very well. I'll hear you out, but I think I might need more than a single pint."

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Isabela said with a smirk.

They made their way to the Hanged Man.

* * *

Cullen watched her, as he occasionally did when she was unaware. Today, she had taken pity on a small, dark-haired girl, no more than five or six years old. The child had fallen and skinned her knee, and sat on the steps, crying. Marian had picked her up and cuddled her, and within minutes, the child was smiling and laughing, running off to eat the fruit she had been given. Marian watched her leave with a small, wistful smile, before turning to begin bartering with an armor merchant. He felt a twinge of longing, wondering if she had any desire to have her own children.

He turned away resolutely. There was no time to speak with her today when he had duties to perform, but soon he would seek her out and clear the air between them. He had been putting it off, fearing she hadn't forgiven him, but he couldn't stay away much longer. It wasn't right to take the coward's path. The days spent apart from her were beginning to feel like a judgment from the Maker. Stealing a final glance of her over his shoulder, he started for the Gallows and the responsibilities awaiting him there.

* * *

Marian read the note from Athenril again, mulling over the possibilities. If it _was_ really another lead on lyrium smugglers, she owed it to the Knight-Captain to bring it to his attention with all haste. It was months since the trail she had been following had gone cold. It really had nothing to do with wanting to see Cullen. Of course not. She had promised to help him, hadn't she? She nodded to herself, and moved across the dingy bedroom, strapping on her weapons.

The little boat rocked and swayed in a hypnotic rhythm. The familiar dread of approaching the Gallows descended on her, as usual, but repetition had lessened the intensity. The boatman gave her a hand stepping off the vessel, and she smiled her thanks, moving through stone corridors until she came to the open plaza. She scanned the area, searching for the familiar, handsome face of the Knight-Captain. With a sinking disappointment, she realized he was not there. Hawke chose the most pleasant looking Templar and approached him.

"Excuse me, Serrah, but I have business with the Knight-Captain. Could you tell me where he is? Or, perhaps I may be allowed to leave a message?"

He looked her over thoroughly before nodding. "I am Ser Thrask. You must be another possible recruit."

"Oh. Actually, I, uh" Hawke stammered awkwardly, but he was beckoning her to follow.

"He is in training now with some of our more advanced recruits, but you may wait until he is finished. It shouldn't be long." Ser Thrask pulled a key from his belt and opened a gate leading down a dark hallway. He waited until she stepped through, and locked the gate again. She gulped down a sudden case of nerves, wishing she had not chosen to come to the Gallows quite so impulsively.

The hall had several branching passages, one which led to another large, open courtyard. There were more than two dozen students listening attentively to their instructor, and Cullen's familiar voice echoed off the walls. Thrask touched her elbow, leaning closer to speak softly in her ear.

"You may observe from here, and when you have concluded your business, the Knight-Captain will lead you out again."

"Thank you, Ser Thrask."

He gave her a kind smile, then left to retrace his steps. Hawke turned her attention to the class. Cullen certainly sounded different as a teacher. His voice was loud and firm as she caught the tail end of his words.

"…must be ready to disrupt a mage's casting at any time. I want you all to practice the exercise now."

The recruits spread their feet, and several lifted a hand straight forward. A strange wave pushed through her and past her, and she crossed her arms, not particularly pleased at this demonstration of Templar talent.

"Close on the heels of that, you must be ready to drain mana, immediately after you cleanse the area. Proceed."

Hawke had a bad feeling and inched back toward the shadowed hall. A ripping in her middle tore through her, forcibly taking all vestiges of her mana from her. She staggered out and leaned against the wall, doubling over and sliding down to the stone cobbles. She pressed a desperate hand to her mouth, holding in the choking coughs that tried to escape. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply for several minutes, waiting for the throbbing ache to lessen.

Belatedly, she realized she could hear the class was breaking up, and forced herself to stand normally before she was discovered. Hawke was still feeling wobbly when she pushed off the wall. Recruits filed past her, staring openly while laughing and talking quietly in twos and threes. She entered the courtyard cautiously, hoping to hide any affects of the invisible pounding she had just taken, with a bland expression.

Cullen was in a discussion with two male recruits, as she ducked further into the shadowy side of the courtyard. As though he sensed her, he looked up with a puzzled frown that changed to a smile when he recognized her. He spent another minute with the recruits, then came to stand in front of her, his eyes devouring her. She looked away from his searching gaze, feeling uncomfortably awkward under his scrutiny.

"It's good to see you, Marian." His voice was soft and hesitant.

"Knight-Captain," she murmured. He frowned at her use of his title, but she glanced pointedly at the lingering recruits.

"Come with me please, Hawke." It was her turn to frown, but she followed him back into the hall, down a side passage and up a narrow stairwell. He led her into a small sitting area, and she looked around curiously, wondering how Templars spent the time they were not on duty.

"I regret I haven't been able to come and see you as I hoped. I've been very busy training recruits, as you noticed, but that really isn't much of an excuse, is it?"

She crossed her arms, wondering just what he would say about their two week separation. His eyes lit on the longsword on her back, and some of the tension left his shoulders.

"I wanted to be sure you weren't angry with me anymore. Does that mean you've forgiven me?" He flicked a finger at the weapon, and she suppressed a smile.

"Well, I don't know." His face fell and she hurried on. "Do you always plan to force me to come see you first?" She grinned when he chuckled. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her gently.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against her lips, and she whispered back, "You're forgiven."

She put a hand against his breastplate, pushing him back several inches. "As dashing as you look in armor, it's not very comfortable to embrace you while you're wearing it. Perhaps it was designed as a deterrent to impromptu trysting?"

He straightened with a small sigh. "If so, the armor fails rather spectacularly. I could tell you some stories."

She looked down at the skirting with a smirk. "Yes, I can see there's a rather large loophole." She took another step back. "Actually, I did have another motive for coming to see you. I got a tip concerning lyrium smugglers. I don't know if it's the same ones, but word is, there is to be a delivery tonight."

He crossed his arms, nodding for her to continue.

"I wanted to see if you want to come along, or would you prefer that I and my associates handle it?"

Cullen frowned. "What associates? I thought you said you had fulfilled your obligation."

"Not _those_ associates, of course, but you met my business partner, Varric. There's also Carver, and I have one or two other friends I can call on for such tasks."

"I'll go," he said firmly. "This is Chantry business. It's my duty to get to the bottom of it."

"You can't go in Templar uniform, or the contact will bolt before we ever get close. Plain armor, or just clothing and your weapons will suffice. We need to look like sell-swords."

He nodded in understanding. "I have plain armor I can use, for when the situation requires discretion. A plain shield as well."

She walked to a small table and picked up a leather-bound book, _The History Of The Chantry_ by Brother Genitivi. She rolled her eyes and replaced it, turning to see Cullen's amused smile.

"Nothing Orlesian here, I'm afraid."

She laughed. "I'm sure there is. Just check the recruit's dormitory."

His brows furrowed and she walked over and smoothed a thumb along his eyebrow, straightening it with a teasing smile. "I'll be at the Hanged Man for most of the evening. We'll go out quite late, so come as soon as you like, after nightfall."

He urged her closer and captured her lips again, smoothing a gauntleted hand across her back. "I suppose I must let you go now," he murmured between kisses.

"Yes, I think you must. It would likely scandalize your entire Order if you were caught kissing a strange woman."

He pulled back and shook his head. "You aren't a strange woman, Marian, you are my lady."

She colored lightly, caught off guard at the thrill she felt over his words. "Does that make you my knight in shining armor?"

His eyes twinkled. "If it pleases you."

"A great many things please me." She bit her lip, wondering why she always felt compelled to tease him.

Cullen's eyes darkened and he smirked. Marian blinked at the heretofore unseen expression on his face.

"And I remember every one of them." He kissed her deeply, tilting her head to accommodate his eager passion.

She lost herself to him for long moments until he rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply. "Ah, Marian, the things you do to me."

"Should I state the obvious and say that it's mutual?"

He opened the door with a regretful look. "Come. I will let you out."

She trailed along behind him until they gained the hall again, when a young girl came running up to them.

"Knight-Captain." She leaned over, breathing heavily.

Cullen placed a hand on Marian's back to bring her beside him. She looked at the girl, taking in the robes she wore. A young mage on the cusp of womanhood, and very pretty as well. Tall, willowy and blonde, with enormous brown eyes.

"What are you doing in this area, Ineria? Is something the matter?"

The girl's attention kept straying to Marian, so she stepped forward and extended her hand.

"How do you do, Ineria? I'm Hawke."

Ineria's eyes widened and she looked to Cullen questioningly. He nodded, and she extended her hand timidly. Hawke grasped it firmly, smiling and winking to set the girl at ease. Ineria smiled back.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Hawke."

"Now, what did you need?" Cullen asked.

Ineria stepped back and twisted her hands together, looking nervous. "It's Poul. He disappeared. The First Enchanter sent me to ask for your assistance finding him."

Cullen turned stern eyes on the girl. "He escaped?" He asked incredulously.

"N-n-n-no, not exactly." The girl looked back and forth between them miserably, and Marian grasped her shoulder in encouragement.

"Don't be frightened. Just tell the Knight-Captain what happened."

Ineria took a breath, looking into Hawke's eyes and calmed at the kindness she found there.

"We were practicing our spells together, and got a little competitive. We were racing to see who could cast the most spells in the shortest amount of time…and then, he just- disappeared. I guess we must have crossed spells. I don't know." Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, and Marian fought not to laugh, turning her chuckle into a cough. He looked at her in bemusement before turning his attention back to the girl.

"Did your guard not dispel the area? That should take care of it."

Ineria bit her lip. "He did, but I think Poul must have already snuck out of the room." Her eyes darkened angrily. "I heard his laughter in one of the corridors. He's just trying to get me into trouble because I was winning the contest."

Cullen shook his head. "Run back to the First Enchanter, and wait for me. I must walk Hawke out, then I will come directly."

Marian grinned. "Goodbye Ineria. I hope your friend materializes soon."

"When he does, I'm going to turn him into an icicle," she muttered, then ran back up the hall, whipping around a corner.

"Sounds like you have plenty to keep you on your toes," Marian quipped, matching his brisk steps.

"Those two are forever offering new challenges. They're both advanced in their studies, but still too young to be Harrowed. The First Enchanter has given them additional spells to practice in an attempt to keep them busy, but I'm not sure that's not a mistake, as you see."

She reached out and caught his arm. "You could try giving them something else to learn. Have you considered weapons training?"

He looked shocked at the idea. "Teach a mage how to wield a blade!"

Her laughter echoed off the walls. "Or a bow. Why not? A life of studying nothing but magic sounds terribly dull, not to mention unhealthy. Bodies need exercise, and minds need the challenge of new accomplishments."

He wrapped her arm around his and began walking for the gate that was in view. Cullen looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll admit, the idea has some merit, but I wonder if the Chantry would ever allow it?"

"Probably not," she said flippantly, "but if you don't ask, you can't be told no."

He shook his head. "The Knight-Commander would never implement anything new without official sanction from the Chantry. She follows Chantry law to the letter."

She didn't know much about the Knight-Commander other than having a general sense of dislike for her, so she refrained from comment. Cullen pulled out a ring of keys and metal clanged and groaned as he unlocked the gate and swung it open for her.

Hawke turned to look at him before stepping through. "I suppose I shouldn't expect to see you later after all, considering this new development."

"I don't believe I will be delayed. I have a fairly good idea of where a fourteen-year-old boy would hide."

"Good luck with that," Hawke said with a chuckle, walking out into the bright courtyard.

"Farewell, Marian."

Smiling over her shoulder, she strolled for the boats, still chuckling to herself.

"I hope you were able to conclude your business satisfactorily?"

She looked up at the pleasant, red-haired Templar. "Yes, thank you, Ser Thrask, I spoke with the Knight-Captain."

"What did you think of the class you observed? Do you think you would like to join the Templar ranks?"

"The class was very informative," she said with an ironic grin, "but I was never a potential recruit. Ser Cullen has enlisted my aid in solving a difficulty, and I merely came to update him on my progress."

Ser Thrask's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he looked her over with renewed interest. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Forgive me, my name is Marian Hawke."

He inclined his head. "Mistress Hawke, whatever service you offer the Order is greatly appreciated. May I escort you to the boats?"

"Thank you Serrah, but you need not trouble yourself on my account."

He extended a hand for her to precede him. "Please, it would be my pleasure."

She nodded and walked ahead. "This is a formidable fortress. One might even say a prison." She turned to gauge his reaction, but he was nodding in agreement. "Is it really necessary to go to such lengths to keep mages contained, Ser Thrask?"

"There are many who find current measures too harsh on mages, and still others who would employ even more severity. Finding a balance can be a challenge." He frowned.

"You sound unhappy about the way things are. Mages aren't just ants to be crushed?"

"Certainly not!" He sounded horrified. "They are people with special challenges. They deserve our compassion, not our condemnation." He noticed her amazed expression, and glanced around in concern. "I'm afraid my views are rather controversial. I am sorry if I've shocked you."

She stepped forward and gripped his hand in hers, speaking quietly. "I'm proud to shake your hand, Ser Thrask. I am of your opinion on the matter."

They shared a smile of understanding, and she released him to enter the boat. "Maker guide your steps, Mistress Hawke."

"May the Maker watch over you, Serrah."

She stepped down into the boat, and Thrask watched as the vessel floated back toward the city. He returned to the courtyard, mulling over his brief encounter. Something about her reminded him of his daughter. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and returned to his post.

* * *

Merrill waved enthusiastically when she saw Hawke stepping onto the dock steps.

"Hawke!" She bounded up happily. "I'm glad to see you." She looked around in confusion. "Although I'm not really sure how I got here. Or how to get back, really."

Hawke chuckled, feeling more than a little worried over the elf's tendency to get lost since coming to Kirkwall.

"I thought Varric gave you something to help with that."

Merrill brightened then deflated. "Well, he did give me a ball of twine so I could leave a trail, but I left it at home." She looked puzzled. "I suppose it would help if I remembered to bring it with me, but I never think about it until I'm already lost."

Shaking her head, Hawke took Merrill's elbow to lead her back toward Lowtown. There was something endearing about the little blood mage, and Hawke found herself feeling more protective of her by the day. She still didn't approve of her use of forbidden magic, but it didn't diminish her blossoming feelings of friendship for a fellow mage.

"Come on, I'll show you the path to the Alienage again."

Craning her neck, Merrill looked behind them at the water. "Were you out sailing in the harbor? I think that sounds pleasant."

Smiling, Hawke shook her head. "No, actually, I was visiting some Templars at the Gallows."

Merrill's eyes got big. "Oh. Have they decided you're too nice to lock up? They must like you very much to let you come and go."

Hawke laughed outright at that, before whispering into the elf's ear. "They don't know I'm a mage, Merrill. It's a secret."

She smiled knowingly. "I'm very good at keeping secrets, Hawke, you can count on me."

"I'm sure you are, but there will be a Templar at the Hanged Man tonight, so be sure and stay home, for your own safety."

Merrill nodded obediently. "Will you tell Isabela I can't come, then? She promised to show me how to do body shots later."

Hawke groaned. "I'm not sure you should trust Isabela to educate you in certain things. Namely sex and drink."

"But I already know about both of those things, so how could she educate me on them?"

She was _not_ having this conversation with Merrill. "Just forget I said anything."

They entered the slums and Marian spied her brother lounging on the stairs, looking disgruntled.

"Carver, what are you doing moping out here?"

He lifted a brow, his eyes flicking briefly to Merrill before returning to his sister. "Do you really have to ask? _Somebody_ is on the rampage again."

"Maker's breath." She rubbed at the tenseness in her neck. "Would you mind escorting Merrill back to her place?"

He jumped to his feet eagerly, smiling at the elf. Marian hid her own smile, aware her brother was sweet on the mage. Something else to hold over his head and tease him about if the need arose. They began walking away, with Merrill chattering happily.

"Carver." He stopped and looked back questioningly. "I need you for a job tonight. Be at the Hanged Man by dark."

He waved in acknowledgement, and she turned her mind to the task of managing her drunken uncle. Strangling him would be the simplest option, but her life seemed entirely devoid of simple. She straightened her shoulders and opened the door.

* * *

Hawke sat nursing an ale in Varric's quarters, angry and brooding, and not fit for company. Varric had taken one look at her and pushed his own drink toward her, wisely refraining from comment when she explained the reason for her condition. Finally he spoke up.

"You said that Templar is coming later?"

She nodded mutely, taking a swallow of the warm drink, before pushing it away in disgust.

"You don't want to take care of that before he gets here, Hawke? He doesn't seem the type not to notice or ask questions."

Hawke growled. "I can't heal myself, and I don't want to bother Anders for something so petty." She grimaced, glancing at the dwarf. "Does it really look that bad?"

He rubbed a hand against his stubbled jaw. "Well, it doesn't look good, that's for sure."

Carver walked in, plonking his drink down and sitting heavily before glancing at his sister and immediately going tense.

"Who hit you, Mari?" A muscle in his jaw clenched angrily, and Marian touched her blackened eye gingerly, trying to smile.

"Well, you know how sweet Uncle Gamlen is when he drinks…" Carver jumped to his feet while she was still speaking, heading for the door.

"I'll kill him," he muttered, before Marian jumped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, stopping him.

"No, Carver, it was an accident. It was my own fault for not being more aware of his flailing fists when I wrestled him into his bed." His eyes were still full of murderous rage. "Really, brother, you can't tell me you haven't wanted to give me a black eye yourself. Just enjoy it vicariously."

He reached for her chin, turning her face so he could examine the puffy, purple skin. "There's a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it. And how do you know he wasn't aware of the direction of his fists? I've seen how angry he gets when he yells at you." He released her face and stepped back, crossing his arms. "It isn't right, Mari. Do you really expect me to stand by while someone hurts you? I don't care if he is our bloody uncle."

"You'll make it harder for Mother," she said quietly. "I can't allow it Carver." When he bristled, she held up a placating hand. "Look, I'll go and see Anders. It won't take him a minute to heal this. You're really overreacting. I've certainly been hurt much worse than this and you never cared."

"What won't take me a minute to heal?" Anders strode through the door. Marian turned to face him and he sucked in a breath. "Andraste's blood, Hawke, what happened?" He came forward and took her face gently between his hands, turning it this way and that, examining the black eye, and other small abrasions on her face.

"Our uncle happened, the bastard," Carver grumbled, somewhat placated by the healer's appearance. He went back to his forgotten drink.

Marian closed her eyes as the cool wash of healing magic glowed over her skin, soothing swollen tissue and taking the pain away. She squeezed his arm in thanks and opened her eyes to Anders frowning face.

"Has he hit you before?" His voice was low and angry.

"By the Maker, _no_. It was an accident, and it will never happen again. Why do you men become so upset over a blackened eye, but stand calmly by when I bleed?" She shook her head in bewilderment.

"No man wants to see a beautiful woman's face marred, Hawke. It interferes with our happy, lustful thoughts," Varric said with a smirk.

Thumping his tankard down, Carver shook his head. "That's certainly not my motivation. In fact, the thought of anyone lusting over Mari is frankly, disgusting."

Anders and Marian took seats at the table. "Thanks brother. You do realize we share a strong resemblance, don't you? If you disparage my looks, you disparage your own."

Carver rolled his eyes, and she turned to the healer. "Anders, The Knight-Captain is coming here tonight. I'm still promised to help him track down lyrium smugglers, so you might want to keep out of sight for this evening."

"More involvement with Templars, Hawke?" He asked in surprise. "Are you so tired of your freedom that you would eagerly gamble it away?"

"I thought I was the only one to notice how stupidly she's behaving with the Knight-Captain," Carver laughed.

Marian glowered. "I am fully in control of the situation, and you can go home if you don't want to help, brother. I'm not forcing you."

"Who else would save your ass? Face it, Mari, you need me." He gave her a smug smile and gulped his drink.

Her lip curled in annoyance. "I find I've had my fill of male company, for the moment." She pushed her chair back from the table and stood.

Anders followed her with his eyes as she left and jogged down the stairs to the bar. He exhaled loudly and looked at Carver, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Is your sister always so stubborn?"

Carver gripped his mug, a tight smile on his face. "You have no idea."

* * *

Hawke leaned her back against the bar, surveying the nearly full tavern.

"Come to keep me company, sweet?" Isabela tipped back her shot and shuddered as the whisky burned a pleasing path down her throat.

"For a while. I have a job tonight, but I need a break from upstairs." She cracked her knuckles and adjusted her blades across her back.

"Is it anything exciting? I could come along and help out, if you like."

Hawke crossed her arms, considering. "Up to you. I'm helping the Knight-Captain with lyrium thieves, and no, he doesn't know anything about my special talents."

Isabela gave her a slow smile. "You do like to live dangerously, don't you, Hawke? I think I'll have to tag along now, just to watch. Are you going to kill him after he sees you doing you-know-what?"

Hawke's brows furrowed. "No, of course not. I'm not planning on doing any of _that_. I'll use my blades, as usual."

"You really need to let me give you a few lessons in finesse, if you're serious about daggers. Once you learn to move as smooth as silk, you'll never go back to rough dancing. Besides, you can apply those lessons to other areas as well." Isabela winked and Hawke laughed and leaned closer to the pirate.

"Are you saying that sword dancing can be adapted to the _other_ kind of sword dancing?"

"Learning to handle a blade involves more than just a masterful sheathing, pet."

"Such as?" She turned to lean against the bar and Isabela knocked her knuckles on the wood to get the barman's attention.

"Don't look now, Hawke, but something very tasty-looking just blew in. I bet even you couldn't say no to that."

Hawke glanced discreetly to the side and snickered. "That's the Knight-Captain, Isabela. He looks a bit lost, I think I better rescue him."

Isabela watched her walk away and greet the Templar, leading him to a corner table. His eyes darted around the tavern, then returned to hungrily follow Hawke's every move. The pirate laughed softly under her breath and threw back another shot.

_Hawke, you are a naughty little bird._

* * *

~o~


	6. Chapter 6

_ ~o~_

* * *

_Come into my world,_

_See through my eyes._

_Try to understand,_

_Don't want to lose what we have._

_~See Who I Am by Within Temptation~_

* * *

**Chapter Six  
**

"Hello, Knight-Captain." Hawke slid an arm around his, leading him to a quiet table out of the way. Loud laughter and raucous conversation buzzed through the tavern, creating a welcoming atmosphere of general merriment.

Cullen smiled when they were seated across from each other. "I came as soon as I could get away."

"I take it you found the boy. Poul, wasn't it?"

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head. "He was in the very first place I looked; the girls bath."

She snickered, admiring the boy's pluck. "I do hope you won't be too hard on them. It sounded like an innocent enough mistake."

"Well, they will have plenty of time to think about their mistakes while they scrubs floors for the next month. In separate areas, of course."

He brushed his arm against hers in a way that looked completely incidental, but made her smile up at him through her lashes.

"You assigned them floor scrubbing? Somehow, I'm not surprised."

He shrugged a heavily armored shoulder, the metal clanking with his movement. "Actually, If was First Enchanter Orsino who chose the punishment. I leave the mages to his guidance, as much as possible."

Hawke chewed a lip thoughtfully. "Really? That's interesting." Before he could comment further, she rose and gestured with a thumb over her shoulder. "We had better get going. I'll just go fetch Varric and Carver. Be right back."

She wove through the tables, and trotted up the steps to the upper floor, Cullen's eyes following her until she was out of sight.

"Well, you certainly aren't what I thought our dear Hawke would go for, but I can't fault her taste."

Cullen looked up to find a scantily clad woman surveying him in a most disconcerting way.

"I beg your pardon?" His cheeks heated in embarrassment for how the woman was dressed, or _not_ dressed, as the case may be. He had seen the whores at the Rose wear more.

She laughed in delight. "Oh, you're blushing! I think I'm going to enjoy tonight even more than I thought."

He started to stammer something when Hawke's voice cut in, saving him the effort.

"Leave Cullen alone, Isabela. He's not trained to deal with your kind of boldness."

She smirked, turning away to talk to Varric, and Hawke leaned in to Cullen, speaking softly. "Isabela is a pirate, but she's very good in a fight. You don't mind her coming along, do you?"

He kept his gaze safely focused on Marian. "No, I don't mind, as long as you trust her."

She grinned and turned to the little group. "Off we go, then!"

* * *

~o~

Cullen walked beside Hawke, his eyes probing the shadows of the Lowtown alleys they passed. It was funny to think that it was in one of those very alleys that he had first wrapped his arms around Marian Hawke. He smiled, glancing at her profile from the corner of his eye. He wondered exactly who had caught whom that night.

"We're looking for a dwarf named Anso," Hawke said to the group. "He should be waiting somewhere in the market and…ah" she said, jerking her chin forward, "I think that must be him."

She stopped and turned to Cullen. "Do you want me to do the talking, or do you want the pleasure?"

He narrowed his eyes, considering. "I think I'll just listen, for now."

Carver frowned. "Can we just get on with this? There are better things to do than stand around all night."

Isabela gave a low laugh. "Are you in a hurry to make it back to the Rose, big boy? I've seen you there a lot lately."

"What!" Carver sputtered in embarrassment, "Of course not! I don't know what you're talking about."

Varric tsked, shaking his head. "Can't go there and expect to keep it a secret, Junior. Word always gets out."

Marian blushed and started walking briskly toward their contact. The last thing she needed was Carver giving away her secrets, even if he wasn't fully aware of all of them.

"Are you Anso?" she asked, startling the dwarf.

"By the stone!" He clutched his chest with wide eyes. "You scared me. It's bad enough with that big, open sky up there waiting to swallow me." He shuddered, and Hawke glanced at Varric in confusion.

He shrugged. "It happens to a lot of dwarves who aren't used to the surface. Bartrand used to be the same way."

"I see." She turned back to the jittery dwarf. "You wanted some special help tonight, I believe?"

He nodded. "Ah, yes, yes. Thieves stole my merchandise and I need it recovered before my buyer gets angry. Templars aren't known for their patience."

Hawke crossed her arms. "So it's lyrium we're recovering then."

Anso nodded, handing her a slip of parchment. "I've tracked it as far as here, but I'm a merchant, not a fighter." He glanced at the heavily armed group. "I'm sure you and your friends won't have any trouble though."

She read the paper then tucked it away, pursing her lips. "Alright, Anso. We'll be back."

Cullen took her arm and pulled her away from the others. "If it is a Templar, I'll need a name so I can follow up on it."

Hawke chewed her lip in thought, watching the dwarf. Something about him was setting off alarms, but she couldn't put a finger on it. "We can question him further when we get back, if you want. Maybe we can even make the delivery and catch the culprit ourselves."

Cullen glanced back at the others and Isabela winked at him, making him shift uncomfortably. Hawke rolled her eyes, shaking her head and smiling at Isabela.

"Next stop is the Alienage," Hawke said, taking the lead.

* * *

~o~

The fight hadn't been overly difficult, Hawke mused, if there had only been fewer traps. She winced. The steel teeth of the trap had already closed around her leg by the time Isabela shouted a warning. Cullen pried it open while she placed a hand on his armored shoulder to steady herself.

"You know, sister, if you didn't always insist on running in first, you might not end up injured as often."

"Really Carver," she grumbled, "if you have nothing useful to add, you could keep your commentary to yourself."

Cullen looked up at her in concern. "How bad is it?"

"Not too bad." She took a step and ignored the pain shooting up her leg. "Who has the potions?"

Isabela pointed at Varric who dug in his pack and tossed one to Hawke. She downed it, making a face at the sharp and unpleasant flavor of elfroot.

She wiggled her foot, already feeling the pain lessening to a manageable level. She looked at the blood and holes in her leathers and sighed. Something else she would have to replace.

Cullen walked to the back room, returning a moment later, stepping carefully over a body and shaking his head. "There's nothing here. The chest is empty."

"Looks like a wild goose chase, Hawke," Varric said, stowing Bianca in his back holster.

She gave the Knight-Captain a self-deprecating smile. "I seem to have particularly bad luck every time I chase lyium. I had a nagging feeling Anso wasn't telling us everything. I'm sorry, Cullen, I thought this might actually be a trail worth following."

He rested a hand on her shoulder. "You are too hard on yourself, Marian. Even with your talent for reading people, you can't always predict every outcome."

Isabela moved closer, twirling one of her daggers with casual ease. "I can get him to tell you anything you want to know, Hawke. I bet I could even make him sing it, _and _he would enjoy every damn minute of it."

Cullen looked at the pirate curiously and opened his mouth to speak, but Hawke interrupted. "Don't ask Isabela questions, Cullen. Ever." She raised a brow at the smirking rogue. "Believe me, you will get an education you don't want."

She shuddered in remembered horror of when Isabela had decided Hawke needed to know about different types of sex toys and their many uses. It had given her the desperate desire to scrub her ears and wash her mind with strong soap.

"Now, Hawke, he looks like a man who could benefit from my vast knowledge." She looked him slowly up and down, licking her lips.

"I don't know how she does it," Carver said, "but I feel dirty just watching."

Isabela turned a predatory gaze on him. Hawke started for the door before Isabela could begin tormenting her brother.

"Let's just go talk to Anso again. I think I've had about enough of running in circles for one night."

She opened the door and stepped out, her jaw clenching angrily at the large group of armed men waiting for them.

"By the Void," she muttered, pulling out her sword and dagger and stepping aside enough for Carver and Cullen to move to the front.

"I don't see no elf," one of the men said, glancing at another uncertainly. The man leading them lifted his sword. "We were told to take care of whoever came out of that door. Now move!"

Hawke and her companions scattered, fanning out to keep from being overwhelmed. Carver used the reach of his blade to slice into his foes, while Cullen bashed and slashed, using his great strength to his advantage.

Isabela taunted a dual wielder, always spinning just out of reach of his blades, finally stabbing him in the back with both her daggers simultaneously and moving on to the next target.

"Look out, Hawke!" Varric shouted, and she jumped aside before she could be impaled by a hail of arrows.

She got knocked to the ground by a flying fist to her shoulder and had to scramble away quickly to keep from being skewered by a longsword, finding herself cut off from her friends in the process. Her arms were tiring as she continued to block, getting in a hit here and there, and the thought flittered through her mind that she might have to use her magic to save her life.

Backing up the flight of steps leading out of the Alienage, she yelled and stabbed her blade into the belly of the man she fought, but his comrade took a swing at her seconds later. She saw her mistake too late and braced for the impact at the same time a loud roar sounded behind her.

A flash of blue and there was suddenly a man standing guard over her, decapitating her attacker with his massive sword.

Hawke heard Isabela yell her name, but she was too busy staring stupidly at the flickering blue figure who seemed to disappear and reappear, and her mouth hung open in shock when he appeared right in front of her with his hand _inside_ a man's chest.

"You might try fighting instead of staring," he growled, rushing off again in another blue flash.

Hawke turned her concentration back to finishing the fight, shrugging off her foolish lapse of concentration.

Cullen jogged up, breathing heavily. "Are you all right, Marian?"

She took a moment to assess her body, feeling the various cuts and bruises and waved a dismissive hand at him. "I'm fine Cullen. Is everyone else alright?" She squinted toward the large tree in the middle of the Alienage but it was blocking her view of her companions.

Cullen sheathed his sword and hooked his shield across his back. "Your pirate friend was knocked out, but she's awake now, although wounded. Your brother is helping her."

The unknown warrior walked up to them. An elf, Marian realized, now that she could see him clearly.

"I thank you for your assistance," he said, in a deep, vibrating voice. "I had no idea Anso would manage to find such skilled fighters on short notice."

"Anso said he wanted us to retrieve his property. Are you telling me we were actually hired to fight these mercenaries?" She gestured to all the carnage around them.

"That is correct. I am Fenris. These men were slavers sent by my former master to retrieve me. I apologize for the deception, but it was necessary. I could not risk Danarius discovering my plan sooner."

She inclined her head politely. "I'm Hawke, this is Cullen. So, you escaped this man? Danarius, was it?"

He nodded, crossing his arms. "Yes. He is a Tevinter Magister, and I was once his slave."

Cullen drew in a breath. "You were fortunate to escape him. Magisters are very powerful mages, and they practice forbidden magicks as well. Not someone you would want to tangle with unless you had Templar support."

"All mages can rot as far as I am concerned," Fenris snarled.

Marian blew out an annoyed breath. "But what was that you were doing with the flickering and glowing? That certainly looked like magic to me." She crossed her arms, already irritated by the strange elf with the deep voice.

He extended his arms, showing off the strange patterns on his skin. "This is lyrium, burned into my flesh by Danarius. The markings give me special skills, as you saw, but I am no mage. Warriors such as myself are extremely rare. These brands are the reason he keeps sending men after me. They are very valuable. He will even take them from my corpse if he must."

Carver, Isabela and Varric walked up, Isabela leaning against Carver, heavily favoring one leg. "It looks like the boys made out better than we did tonight, Hawke. I think that means they need to buy us a drink to help us feel better."

Hawke smiled and looked to see if Carver was injured, but he scowled at her. "That was bloody stupid, Mari. How do you expect anyone to look after you when you go scampering off with half a dozen bastards chasing you?"

She smirked. "Thanks for the concern, brother, but Fenris here helped me out of my tight spot."

Fenris glanced up from rifling through the pockets of the man who had been the leader, his gaze inscrutable. He walked up to Hawke and thrust a piece of parchment at her. "Will you read this?"

She took it and glanced at Cullen in confusion before reading what was written. "It says something about meeting up at the Hightown mansion." She glanced up. "It doesn't have any names on it."

Fenris paced restlessly. "He's here. Danarius is here. I must go and confront him before he gets away." He looked at Hawke. "I must ask your assistance once again."

Her lips parted in surprise and Cullen stepped forward. "You can't go against a mage on your own. I'm the Knight-Captain of the Templars in Kirkwall, I will come and assist you."

Fenris looked surprised. "You are a leader of the Templars? I would welcome the aid of a mage fighter."

Cullen nodded. "You have it, Fenris." He turned to look at the others then touched Hawke's arm. "Marian, since you and the other young lady are injured, perhaps you ought to go back to the tavern and wait for us."

Carver laughed quietly and exchanged an amused look with Varric, shaking his head at the Knight-Captain's mistake.

Hawke's eyes darkened, her lips thinned in displeasure. "Don't try to send me home like a wayward child, Cullen," she hissed. "I don't appreciate being coddled. There is little wrong with me and I'm coming with you."

He held up a placating hand, slightly taken aback by her anger. "Very well, if you deem it best."

Hawke stalked over to Varric, Isabela and Carver, holding a brief conversation before returning to Fenris and Cullen. "I'm taking Isabela back to the Hanged Man. If you want to go on, I'll meet you there."

"Yes, I must go without delay, I cannot squander this opportunity to be rid of Danarius," Fenris said, already glancing toward the stairs.

Cullen gripped Hawke's hand, squeezing lightly. "We'll wait for you in the Chantry courtyard, if that's acceptable?" He looked enquiringly at Fenris and the elf nodded.

"It is a good place to meet. Very near the mansion."

Hawke rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, looking bemused when it came away smeared with blood. "Varric will go with you to provide ranged support should you run into trouble, and Carver will come with me."

"Take care on the streets." Cullen gave her a peck on the cheek and the Templar, elf and dwarf set off for Hightown.

* * *

Hawke led the way up the steps to the top floor of the Hanged Man, while Carver helped Isabela hobble up the steps, finally sighing loudly and picking her up to carry her the rest of the way. Isabela laughed.

"Thanks, big boy. It's sometimes nice to have a man who takes charge."

"I think Varric has some poultices for your wound. I'll see if I can find one for you before we go," Hawke said, and opened the door to Varric's suite, smiling in relief to see Anders still sitting where she had left him earlier. He stood, his brows furrowed in concern when he saw the blood covering them. Carver helped Isabela into a chair.

"Anders, I'm glad you're here. Isabela was injured but Carver and I need to go. Varric is waiting for us in Hightown."

Anders hands were already glowing with blue healing light as he passed them over Isabela's injured leg. "Don't rush off just yet," he said distractedly.

He went to the cupboard where Varric kept potions and poultices and took one out, returning to apply it to Isabela's leg.

Hawke shifted from foot to foot impatiently. Carver walked out, muttering "I'll be downstairs," over his shoulder.

Isabela stood after Anders finished applying medicinal paste and binding the wound with fresh bandaging. She kissed his cheek with a loud smack. "Thanks, pet. I feel good enough to drink the night away."

The healer gave her a stern look. "Just try not to run into any more blades. That wound came awfully close to an artery. You were very lucky."

The pirate rose and winked, heading for the bar. "I'm always lucky."

Hawke blew her fringe off her forehead, tense and tired of waiting. "Anders, I really can't delay any longer."

He ignored her words and stepped close, healing magic washing over her and soothing bruises and repairing wounds. He cast a regeneration spell on her and she felt her mind clear and sharpen, and her energy refreshed.

"How did you and Isabela get so banged up?" he asked, as the glow from his hands finally faded.

A section of Hawke's leather pants were hanging off her knee in a torn strip and she bent over to cut it off with her belt knife. "An ambush, of course, and now there's a Tevinter Magister to vanquish in order to free an odd elf. Just another typical night in Kirkwall," she said sarcastically. She hesitated. "Thank you, Anders, I didn't realize how much I needed healing."

She walked to the door with Anders following close behind. "Are you heading back to the clinic?" she asked as they walked toward the stairs.

"No," he said quietly, "I'm coming with you. If you get that badly beaten up when you don't use your magic, then I will just have to use mine to ensure you don't fall."

She stopped, dumbstruck, then grabbed his arm to pull him away from the stairwell, mindful of listening ears. "You can't come," she whispered, "the Knight-Captain is waiting as well. He'll know you're a mage even if you don't cast a single spell."

"I don't care," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "Magisters are powerful, Hawke. I can't just walk away when I know you're in danger, Templar or not."

She tensed, ready to explode in anger, when the obvious explanation struck her. Tilting her head thoughtfully, she turned back to the stairs. "Fine, but you let me talk to Cullen first. Agreed?"

He nodded tightly. They retrieved Carver and rapidly made their way to Hightown.

* * *

~o~


	7. Chapter 7

~o~

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Hawke spotted the three men in the shadows near the steps to the Chantry. She walked directly to Cullen, watching him closely as he looked casually at Carver then went still when he saw Anders.

"Cullen, this is Anders. He's a Grey Warden and a healer. He's agreed to assist us with the Magister."

Cullen's eyes narrowed. "Anders? I remember you from the Ferelden circle." He frowned. "I see you managed to escape again. Are you really a Grey Warden?"

Anders crossed his arms, glaring. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I was conscripted by the Hero of Ferelden himself. Such a shame the darkspawn in Amaranthine managed to kill so many of your brethren."

Cullen took an angry step forward and Hawke slipped between the two men, placing a restraining hand against the Knight-Captain's chest, and shooting a warning look at Anders.

"I don't need a foul mage at my back. I would rather do without," Fenris snapped.

Hawke had heard enough. She walked up to Fenris, forcing him to retreat a step when she entered his personal space. She stared him down, anger radiating off her in waves.

"If you want help with your little problem, Fenris," she hissed, "then I suggest you tone down the hate speech. I don't hold with slavery, but nor do I appreciate snap judgments based on an ignorant prejudice." She pointed to the side where Anders was watching her with a small smile.

"Anders is a good man. He also happens to be a mage, and a very gifted healer. He offered to help for no other reason than concern for the well-being of his friends. If you have a problem with him, you have a problem with me. Are we clear?"

The elf shot an angry glare at Anders, nodding curtly. "Let us go. We dare not delay longer."

* * *

Hawke leaned back against the stone steps of the dilapidated mansion, looking at the high ceiling and back down to the dirty floor, trying to imagine what the formerly opulent house might look like if it were repaired and not splattered with demonic ichor. Reaching up, she wiped the sweat from her forehead tiredly.

"Let's not do that again, Hawke," Varric muttered. "I don't much care for the hospitality of demons and shades." He rolled his sore shoulder, drawing Anders gaze, and the mage walked over to heal him.

Hawke chuckled, scooting over to make space for Cullen to sit beside her. "It definitely doesn't make it to the top of my list for most enjoyable ways to spend an evening."

Cullen pulled off his gauntlets, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I've never seen so many magical traps." His gaze darkened. "Although I've certainly seen my fair share of demons and abominations."

Carver smirked mockingly. "I think Mari managed to set off every one of those traps, as usual."

Marian grinned and cracked her knuckles. "It's a gift, brother. I like to think my special skills keep everyone on their toes."

Cursing under his breath, Fenris shoved a bronze statue angrily, making it tumble off its pedestal and crash to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust.

"I should have known Danarius was too much of a coward to face me himself." He looked at Hawke and Cullen, his shoulders hunched in frustration. "I won't run again. If he wants me, he will find me here, waiting."

"Know this," Cullen said in a firm voice, "if he comes to Kirkwall looking for trouble, he's going to find it. You may call on the aid of the Templars if you have need. I can muster a dozen of the Order's finest in no time."

Anders walked to Hawke and held out a hand. She looked at him in confusion. "I need to see your back, Hawke. I know you took a hit there, and it's difficult to heal blind."

She shrugged and stood, giving Anders her back, and he discreetly pushed up her top to scrutinize her injury. Cullen had gone tense at Anders' approach and Hawke caught his eye and gave him a reassuring look.

Frowning at his petty feelings of jealousy, Cullen worked at the closures of his steel vambraces, setting them aside to survey where the aching flare of a rage demon's fire had burned him.

Hawke sat back down after Anders' magic had done its work, and Anders hesitated, finally taking a tentative step toward the Knight-Captain.

"I can heal that for you, if you like."

Cullen gave him a long look before extending his burned arm, speaking quietly. "I would be grateful, thank you. I don't know whether to address you as Anders or Warden."

"Just Anders is fine." The healer took his arm in a careful grip to assess and repair the damage and Hawke looked at Cullen, smiling her approval.

"If we're done killing things, Mari, I think I'll head back to the Hanged Man."

She waved a hand. "Yes, yes, Carver, off you go."

"Wait up, Junior," Varric said, "I'll walk with you. I think there's still time for a few hands of Wicked Grace, if you're up to the challenge."

"I can take anything you can dish, dwarf," Carver scoffed.

"You coming, Blondie?"

Anders stepped away from the Templar, wiping sweaty palms on his coat from his exertions. "Yes, I think that's everyone healed now."

Hawke stood to her feet with a sigh, and walked across the room to where the elf stood brooding silently. "I'm sorry we weren't able to take care of your problem, Fenris. Maker knows, I hate leaving things half done."

"No, it's…fine." He seemed to struggle to find words, his forehead furrowed in thought. "I am grateful to you."

She rested a hand on her hip, staring at him, noting how hard it seemed to be for him to meet her eyes. Something about him screamed lost and alone, but with a feral edge, like a dog kicked too many times, ready to snarl and snap. Hawke laid a hand on his arm and he flinched.

"If you've need of me, I'm easily reached at the Hanged Man in Lowtown."

She turned to leave, stopping at the sound of his voice and looking back with brows raised inquiringly.

"Hawke…. My blade is at your disposal, should you wish it."

She grinned. "Excellent. I'm sure I can always make use of a skilled warrior such as yourself. You would be surprised by the number of people who seek my help." She winked and walked away, leaving the elf staring after her with a puzzled frown.

* * *

Cullen darted another glance at her as they walked the Hightown pavement and Hawke laughed. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" She stopped and rubbed her face vigorously, then presented it to him. "There. Did I get any of the blood off?"

He stared at her silently, the tension in him communicating itself to her with a look. The leftover victory of battle, and the steady dose of adrenalin throughout the evening made Hawke suddenly crave wildness, in the form of his hands on her bare skin and a vigorous coupling. Her lips parted in silent yearning as the silence between them lengthened.

Cullen made a strangled sound and pulled her into a darkened alcove, pushing her against the cool stone wall and sliding his lips across hers in heated abandon. She moaned low in her throat and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his fevered kiss with an enthusiastic tangling of tongues.

She let her head fall back against the wall, shuddering when his lips against her throat made her breasts ache and her core throb with emptiness. As though he felt her need, he pressed against the leathers covering her sex, grinding his hand against her.

She moaned so loudly, Cullen stopped and looked around, then bumped his forehead against the stone wall above her shoulder in frustration. "This is killing me, Marian. I feel as if I will die if I can't have you."

Heaving a breath, she opened her eyes, feeling an uncomfortable wetness between her legs. "The Rose is just around the corner. They have rooms, if you recall."

"Andraste's mercy, I can't take you there to…to…"

Marian nibbled at his ear, running her teeth against the lobe. "Make love to me? I don't see what difference location makes. We are far more likely to be caught in an embarrassing way against this wall."

He stepped back, shooting her a guilty glance. "I'm sorry, I suppose that wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

She stepped into him close enough to feel his body heat again, cupping him under the chain mail skirting of his armor. "Gentleman are overrated, dearest. I'm wet and aching for you."

He gave her a pained look. "No. As tempting as you are, we can't go there. It's too disrespectful. You're a proper lady, not some common tart."

Moonlight peeked between grey clouds, casting a sheen on Marian's dark hair and reflecting off the white walls. Cullen stroked the side of her head. "It's just been so long since we were together, and…" His gaze darkened. "I don't like the way that mage was looking at you and hovering around you."

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "This is the part where you tell me what a jealous fool I am, and how I have nothing to worry about."

She reached for his face, their kiss slow and thorough. "Cullen, you aren't a fool, but you really_ don't_ have anything to worry about. I am yours completely, my heart too. You're the only man I want."

He smiled, kissing her reverently, his green eyes shining. "I love you body and soul, Marian Hawke. I never thought I would know love, but then you came along and bewitched me."

She blushed. "You make me sound like some sort of temptress."

He raised a teasing brow. "Aren't you? You've certainly taken over my thoughts."

Marian scoffed, rapping her knuckles against his armored chest. "May I remind you, _Ser Cullen_, of my innocent state when we met? I'm no goddess of sensuality."

Cullen gripped her bottom with both hands, pulling her flush against him. "You are my goddess," he murmured, "and I eagerly anticipate when I can next worship at the shrine of your body."

Her mouth opened in shock at his outrageous declaration. "Cullen…have you been reading Orlesian novels, by any chance?"

Her only answer was a mysterious smile and a kiss that left her breathless.

* * *

A sharp snapping of fingers in front of her face pulled Hawke from her daydreams of Cullen. She frowned and shook her head, realizing she had no idea what they had been discussing.

"I'm sorry, Aveline, you were saying?"

The Guard Captain sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If you aren't going to listen, Hawke, I wonder why I should bother?"

Hawke cleared her throat. "So, Bran is a condescending bastard and he makes your life more difficult."

Aveline crossed her arms and glared. "That was ten minutes ago. I was telling you I could use your help clearing the nighttime streets of all the gangs. What's gotten into you lately?"

_Gangs, right. Way to make a fool of myself._

"Nothing really. Just, um, thinking about Fenris. I appreciate what you've done to keep anyone from sniffing around that old mansion where he's staying. I tried talking him into moving someplace less conspicuous, but he's terribly stubborn, I'm afraid."

Pursing her lips, Aveline leaned her hip against the edge of her desk. "I'm going to say it, and I don't care if it's what you want to hear or not. You obviously need to hear it."

Hawke sighed, her gaze suddenly wary. "What do I need to hear?"

"You're risking everything you've worked for by carrying on with that Templar."

Hawke stood slowly to her feet, turning to pace across the Guard Captain's office restlessly. "I suppose it's too much to hope for, that there might be anyone who _doesn't_ know my business," she muttered."

"Not only that," Aveline continued, "but you might think of your family. You're a damn idiot if you don't think this will harm them. You have a duty…"

Spinning around, Hawke's face contorted with anger. "Duty," she snarled, "don't you think I _know_ about duty? I was fed duty and responsibility since I was a babe at my mother's breast. I live and breathe for the welfare of my family!"

Aveline raised a censuring brow. "You might try acting like it. He's the bloody Knight-Captain, Hawke! I've never known you to take such a chance before this."

Hawke made a strangled sound in her throat, her hand coming up to rake fingers through her hair in frustration. "My mind knows what you're saying is true." She looked at Aveline and her blue-eyed gaze was as hard as flint. "But my heart won't let me give him up. Not yet. I have no hope of marriage or children, or any of the things normal people take for granted. I have to take this chance to know love; as idiotic as it seems."

She walked across the room and brushed her fingers against the shield of Ser Wesley that Aveline had mounted on the wall, the red and silver of the Templar order shining brightly with reflected light. "It's likely the only chance I'll ever have."

Aveline drew in a long breath. Despite being a warrior, she had loved her husband and knew what it was like to want to have love in return. "I should kick your ass across Hightown. I don't approve and I won't pretend to," she hesitated, "but I'm still here for you, Hawke. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Hawke smiled pensively. "So do I."

* * *

Cullen approached the group of Templars milling around the inner courtyard near the mages quarters. The atmosphere had the laughter and lightness that indicated an easy extraction.

He had seen it many times over the years, and had also experienced it himself. It was always a relief to bring a new mage to the tower without resistance, or anyone being harmed in the process.

Ser Thrask walked to meet Cullen, smiling his pleasant smile. A small, dark-haired girl walked next to him, long strands of hair hanging haphazardly around her face, and she clung to his hand in a tight grasp. She looked up at the Knight-Captain and her eyes and features were so similar to Marian's, he had to stifle a gasp. The child might easily be hers, or a close relation.

He glanced at Thrask. "You had no trouble, I take it?"

Thrask glanced down at the girl then back at Cullen, shaking his head. "No. She lived with a maiden aunt. Both of her parents passed when she was an infant. Her aunt was the one who contacted us after she walked into a blizzard in the child's room."

Cullen nodded, looking thoughtful. "She looks very young for such a level of talent."

The girl was staring at her feet with a frown on her face. "She's five, as of last winter."

Cullen squatted down so he could look the child in the eye. "Will you tell me your name?" He asked in a soft voice, not wanting to frighten her after the trauma she had already suffered.

She looked up, stunning him again with the similarity to his Marian. She examined his face carefully, taking his measure in the frank and open manner of children. "Coren," she said shyly.

"Coren is a very quiet young lady, but obedient and eager to please, as her aunt informed us. I'll leave her in your hands, Knight-Captain."

"Thank you, I'll take her to get settled in," Cullen said.

"I'll see you soon, Coren." Thrask patted her on the head and followed the cluster of Templars, heading back to their quarters.

The girl looked around her in sudden fright at being left alone with another strange man. Cullen remembered what Marian had said about imagining it was someone he loved or cared about, and his heart went out to the child, causing him to cast aside his usual reserve. He touched her hair gently in reassurance. "My name is Cullen. Would you like to be my friend, Coren?"

She calmed, the fear slowly draining from her face to be replaced by a look of shy longing. She nodded, inching closer to him. "I'll be your friend. Are you going to look after me?" Her hand reached out to trace the sword emblem on his breastplate with curious fingers.

He smiled. "Yes. That's what Templars are for, to look after special people like you."

She smiled back, her face relaxing with a high pitched giggle and she patted his cheek. "I like you."

Cullen winked. "I like you too, little one."

She looked down, hers brows scrunching up with a sudden change of mood. "Aunt Ro said I was evil. I don't want to be evil." Her lip quivered threateningly. "I'll try and be good and not make more snow. I didn't mean to, it was just so pretty."

He shushed her before the tears in her eyes could flow, patting her back soothingly. "You aren't evil, and making snow isn't always bad. You'll learn to control it here, and there are many others just like you. There are even other children you'll make friends with. And there will always be someone like me around to keep you from hurting yourself or anyone else. Does that sound alright to you?"

Coren scrubbed away the tears with a grubby fist, nodding. She still had the fat cheeks of infancy, and a fresh smear of dirt now adorned one side of her face.

He stood and took her hand. "How would you like to go and meet First Enchanter Orsino? I think you'll like him too. He's going to be in charge of you and see you have everything you need."

She bobbed her head again, and he led her off to the left, to the Gallows offices. Coren darted a glance up at him and tugged on his arm to get him to stop.

He looked down at her. "You want to ask me something, Coren?"

She swallowed and dug the toe of her worn leather shoe against the stone floor, her blue eyes wide and serious. "Can I marry you when I grow up to be a big lady, Cullen? Then you can take care of me all the time. I can make you cake. Aunt Ro was teaching me how."

His mouth opened in surprise. It brought back a distant recollection of when he was a toddling boy and had asked his mother to marry him. His parents had laughed and his brothers had teased him about it.

He knew this child also had no inkling of what marriage was, having only lived with a maiden aunt, and wasn't it every little girl's dream to have a knight to marry and protect her? It saddened him to think this sweet girl had no chance at any such thing; any possibility of it now forever beyond her reach.

It tugged at his heart. He wondered if it wasn't Marian's influence that he was now seeing things very differently than he ever had before. Questioning how mages had to live when he had always accepted it without further thought.

Privately, he sometimes wondered why the Maker had made things so difficult for some and not others, but that was the way of the world. It wasn't in him to wound this little girl's spirit by rejecting her need for love and affection.

What if he and Marian were to have a daughter? Might she not be like this innocent child? Marian's sister had been a mage, so it was always a possibility, as sad as it made him to think of it.

He found himself smiling and answering with what comfort he could offer her.

"Maybe some day, sweetheart. You must focus on growing up first."

The pleased brightness of her smile was almost worth the pang of guilt he felt over lying. She would find out all too soon, and in the years ahead, that the cost of magic was the loss of dreams, and for mages, there was no such thing as happily ever after.

* * *

Wilmod bumped Keran's shoulder and leaned over to show him the parchment he had been scribbling on, pretending to take notes. They were meant to be paying attention to the lecture, but neither one of them liked Ser Alrik, and his snakelike, oily voice was something most of the recruits liked to make fun of. Keran glanced down to see what his friend had written to amuse him this time.

_I think the Knight-Captain has a lover. Do you remember the fetching, dark-haired woman who was watching our class? The one in the tight leather pants you were practically drooling over?_

Glancing at Wilmod, he nodded slightly. Wilmod dipped his quill in the ink bottle resting on the table they sat at, and scratched out more words.

_I saw them together after that, and he kept touching her VERY familiarly. The way they looked at each other made me want to run to the Rose!_

Keran snickered then looked up guiltily, trying to school his features into polite interest when Ser Alrik glared at him, but the man kept droning on about the necessity of the Rite of Tranquility and how the ritual was performed.

Taking the quill from Wilmod, he scribbled a response.

_Do you know her name?_ _And how can you be so sure, did they kiss or anything else inappropriate? Are you basing it only on what you imagined you saw from that one day, or is there any other gossip to support it?_

Hugh glanced briefly at what they were writing and rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the lecture. Keran smirked and passed the quill back to Wilmod under the table.

_I haven't heard anything, but that doesn't mean I can't interpret the look of desire, considering my expertise on the subject. Speaking of which, do you want to come with me to the Hanged Man later? I hear their ale is reasonably priced and the serving wenches are easy on the eyes. Maybe we'll get lucky._

Keran frowned, thinking of his sister, Macha, and how he needed to save every copper for her. Wilmod cocked an eyebrow.

_I'll buy, Keran. I know you never have any coin. So?_

Keran gave another slight nod, and Wilmod put down the quill and sat back, crossing his arms and looking pleased.

* * *

~o~


	8. Chapter 8

**_Warning: Some M-rated content in this chapter._**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Marian scanned the list of Deep Roads supplies she still needed, using her quill to check off an item here and there that she had already obtained. Varric's quarters were comfortable and quiet, the mid-afternoon sun streaming brightly from a small window, high up on the wall.

There was no one else about, all her other companions busy with their own pursuits, except for herself and Fenris, and for all his quiet, she might as well be alone. The ornate dwarven clock in the far corner of the room resolutely ticked away the passing minutes.

His deep voice finally broke the extended silence. "There is something I have been thinking on, Hawke, but do not fully understand. Perhaps you will satisfy my curiosity on a certain point." The elf's finger tapped restlessly against the side of his wine goblet.

Marian struck a line through an item she had inadvertently listed twice. "What's that, Fenris?" she asked absently, and looked up to find him regarding her intently.

He leaned forward and placed the very tip of his index finger lightly against the back of her hand, barely brushing her skin. His markings flared in a brilliant burst of light and she felt the block on her magic dissolve, called forth by the lyrium on his skin that made him such a formidable weapon. She gasped and pulled back, searching his face anxiously. His expression was blank, except for the wary watchfulness in his green gaze.

"_That_," he said, "is what I cannot fathom. That night you touched me in Danarius' mansion, I felt the power in you, although you somehow mute it. You are clearly a mage, and yet you do not use it when you fight. You seem to take great care to disguise what you really are. I would know why."

She blew the fringe off her forehead, relieved he didn't seem to be openly hostile despite discovering her secret, and pointed at him, indicating his brands. "Did you wish for those markings?"

He scoffed and gave a curt shake of the head. "You know I did not."

"I didn't ask for this either," she said, conjuring a small ball of magical energy that hovered over her palm, before she released the spell and it disappeared.

"Just because I _can_ do something, doesn't mean I choose to. If I needed to use magic in order to save my family or friends, I wouldn't hesitate, but the possibility of being imprisoned for an accident of birth is not something I'm eager to bring about."

He stared at her for a long moment through the wispy strands of his white hair. "I understand now why you defended the other mage so strongly, since you are both alike," he mused. "But a warrior uses all his strengths to his advantage. Though I may not have wanted these cursed markings, it does not mean I won't use them against my enemies."

Marian snorted a laugh and shook her head in disbelief. "Sorry, but are you actually _encouraging_ me to fight with magic?"

Fenris scowled. "No. I am merely trying to understand you, Hawke. You are different from other mages I have known, who were always quick to flaunt their power and grasp for more."

He hesitated for a beat, clearly struggling for the right words. He tilted his goblet, swallowing down the last of his wine, and then stared into the empty vessel.

"You have fought to keep me free, bloodying yourself on my behalf." He frowned, still looking down. "I suppose I can do no less for you."

She drew in a deep breath, surprise mingling with relief, even if there was still reluctance in his voice. "Thank you, Fenris. It's good to have you at my back."

"What of the Templar? I take it you are close, yet he seems…unaware. Or am I mistaken and you have reached an understanding with him?"

Her face fell, and she fought to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "He isn't aware. Cullen has a strong sense of duty; I can't really say what he would do if he ever discovered my secret. I keep thinking I should just tell him and get it over with, but I dare not risk my family."

She fell silent, waiting for his condemnation, or any comment at all, but he made no response. She went back to her list, a quiet worry at the forefront of her mind, shattering her peace like so much glass.

* * *

Wilmod grinned as he surveyed the shadowed interior of the Hanged Man. Rough wooden benches and tables were scattered around the space, with those furthest from the fire nearly dark enough to encourage drunken trysting, should one find an obliging wench. With the pressure building in his trousers, he had _every_ intention of finding an obliging wench.

He turned and laid a hand on Keran's shoulder, only to discover his friend's focus was trained on the bar. Wilmod glanced over and saw the same woman who had been at the Gallows with the Knight-Captain, leaning against the wooden counter, her tight leathers accentuating her curvaceous hips and backside. _Ah, perfect_, Wilmod thought, with a leer.

"I would say that looks like an alluring reason to go order a drink, wouldn't you?"

Keran shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, but his eyes gleamed with interest. "I suppose it couldn't hurt anything."

They walked to the bar, Wilmod sticking his boot subtly in front of his friend, causing him to trip and crash into the lounging woman. Keran's hands landed on either side of her, caging her against his body as he tried not to crush her.

She spun, grabbing him and slamming his back against the bar, a snarl on her face. He stared at her with wide eyes and her fierce expression slowly changed to one of puzzlement.

Keran's heart pounded, blood rushing through his veins and gathering lower down at having her pressed flush against him. He could almost taste the sweet scent of her on his tongue when he inhaled.

"You seem to draw templars like bees to flowers, Hawke," Isabela quipped, her eyes crinkled in mirth. "I think they want a taste of your…_nectar_."

She bit her lip to fight the slight smile that tried to emerge as a response to Isabela's innuendo. "I'm going to be charitable, just this once, and assume you weren't _trying_ to assault me." She stepped back, releasing the hilt of the dagger she had taken hold of.

Keran cleared his throat, shooting an accusing look at his friend. "I apologize for that, miss. I tripped."

Marian turned her head, taking in the other templar and trying to remember why they looked so familiar. "Haven't I seen you boys before?"

Wilmod stepped close, entering her personal space and she took a step back, not liking the look in his eyes.

"You watched us train one day. I got the impression you were…close friends…with Knight-Captain Cullen." He put special emphasis on the word, _friends,_ making it sound particularly sordid.

She chewed her lip, well aware of what he was implying, and opened her mouth to give a curt reply, but she was beat to it.

"Marian Hawke is not only a very dear _friend_, Wilmod, but also under _my protection_. What of it?"

They turned to see Cullen standing several feet away, his arms crossed and the closest thing to a glare Marian had ever seen on his face.

Wilmod's eyes went wide, while he tried to repair the damage. "Nothing, Knight-Captain, Ser, nothing at all! We just wanted to greet your lady, and- wish her a pleasant evening." He glanced at his friend who was looking worried. "In fact, we are on our way to visit Keran's sister, so we really must run now."

He and Keran sketched hasty bows and practically ran for the door. Cullen watched them go with a frown, then turned to see Marian grinning at him in amusement.

"Is that the nasty glare you reserve for recruits, Knight-Captain? I just might be afraid of you now."

He walked up to the bar, resting a hand lightly against the edge, winking so only she could see him. "Maybe. It's very important for discipline that I'm taken seriously, and those two already tend toward mischief." He leaned closer, pitching his voice to a low murmur. "I got your message to come right away. It sounds like you have a promising evening planned?"

Hawke looked at him in confusion. "I didn't send any message, Cullen."

Isabela sidled up between them. "Actually, I sent the message." Placing a hand on Hawke's shoulder and another on Cullen's, she leaned in between them with a smirk. "I have a little errand I need someone trustworthy to see to, and I thought the two of you would be best suited to the task. I already have urgent plans for the evening, or I'd go myself." She paused and licked her bottom lip suggestively. "I assure you the reward for your efforts will be satisfying for you both."

Cullen looked concerned, but Marian knew Isabela well enough to be immediately suspicious. Her curiosity however, was piqued, especially since Isabela went to the trouble to include Cullen in the scheme. She might regret it, but…

"Alright, Isabela, let's hear it. What is it you need us to do?"

* * *

Keran shook Wilmod's hand off his arm irritably, rounding on him when they were clear of the tavern.

"Why did you do that? She had blades, you know, and she looked rather willing to use them! Not to mention riling up the Knight-Captain by having me touching his woman. I'm sure we're in for a reprimand when he next sees us at the Gallows. "

Wilmod snorted. "Come off it, Keran. I did you a favor, and you know it. Now you have fodder for your wet dreams for the next week, at least."

"Shut up," Keran muttered, rubbing a hand against his eyes to shut out his friend's knowing smile.

Wilmod clapped his fellow recruit soundly on the back. "Come along with me for once. I told you there's a new girl at the Rose. She's more than just beautiful and talented, but also persuasive enough to even overcome _your_ reluctance, I wager. You'll like her."

Keran wavered, wondering if he should just go and visit his sister before heading back to the barracks for the night. "What's her name? I hope it's nothing as bad as 'Candy, the tasty tart'?"

Wilmod snickered. "I agree with you on that one. She was very poorly named, and not even the slightest bit tasty."

Shuddering, Keran shook his head. "There are places on a whore I would never put my mouth, unlike you. Why can't we find any nice girls? Hugh doesn't visit the Rose, and he has a respectable lover." He glanced back over his shoulder at the Hanged Man wistfully.

"Have you actually _seen_ his mystery lover? I think he made her up, the wanker. His hand is his favorite toy, just like the rest of them." He bumped Keran's shoulder. "Come with me. 'Idunna, The Exotic Wonder', will put a smile on your face. I guarantee it."

Keran allowed himself to be steered toward Hightown, still reluctant, but letting Wilmod persuade him, as usual. He hoped he wouldn't regret it this time.

* * *

Marian snapped her wrist sharply to the side to flick the blood from the gleaming blade of her longsword, watching Cullen appreciatively from the corner of her eye. His movement in battle was not as quick as her own, but the strength with which he swung his sword and shield, and his absolute confidence in the face of his enemy was enough to make her weak in the knees. The longer she knew him, the greater her admiration grew for all of his fine qualities, his skill in battle among them.

"May the Maker have mercy on your soul," he murmured, looking down at the man he had just slain. "Why do we keep getting attacked without provocation, I wonder?"

Shrugging, Marian sheathed her sword and dagger, then knelt to rifle through the pockets of the man closest to her, stepping around his side to avoid the ever-widening pool of blood spreading from his sliced abdomen.

"Are you…taking their coin?" Cullen asked in surprise.

Blushing at how he must view her actions, she continued her methodical search. "It isn't as if they need it anymore. As to why they attack, there are many gangs that operate after dark, all over the city. Recall the night we met in Hightown."

Cullen walked closer, frowning down at her. "Marian, if you really have such a need for gold, I have some saved up, you need not stoop to…"

"Aha!" she shouted triumphantly, pulling a battered bit of parchment out and scrutinizing what was written there. "I know this code, it's old. These blighters are amateurs. Their base is in one of the tunnels in Darktown. Why does that not surprise me?" She stood and tucked the information safely away, beckoning Cullen to follow her. They left the carnage behind and continued on their way.

"There are those who pay me to rid the city of the criminal element, Cullen. They prey on the weak and unwary under the cover of dark, and deserve whatever justice chooses to visit on them. By rights, the city guard should be the ones to see to it, but, my friend, Guard-Captain Aveline, is stretched far too thin at the moment. I do what I can to help her out. We cleared Lowtown and Hightown recently, so I suppose it's time to tend to the docks. I couldn't stand by and have my mother threatened every time she tries to step out the door," she said grimly.

Cullen rolled one of his shoulders to loosen a knot in his muscles trying to form under his heavy armor. "I see. I had no idea you performed such services for the good of Kirkwall. That is indeed commendable. It's only right you be compensated for your efforts."

She winked. "Well, I won't say the coin I earn isn't a large part of why I and my companions fight the night gangs, but I do occasionally allow my heart a say in the kinds of jobs I take."

Cullen smiled and Marian pointed to a rickety set of stairs nestled between two large warehouses. "Is this where your friend said we would find the thieves that have her property?" Cullen whispered.

Nodding, Marian leaned closer. "It may be nothing, but she was afraid _some_ magic would be involved, based on her information."

"Let me go in first, then. I don't want you to get caught by a caster, and I can disable them before they can begin."

Marian suppressed a smile, thinking of all the mages and blood mages she had killed since her arrival in Kirkwall, but found herself charmed by his desire to protect her from magic. If only it were so simple…

Nodding her agreement, she crept up the stairwell behind him, then knelt in front of the darkened second-story door to pick the lock. He gave her a long look and nodded with his weapons at the ready, then burst through the door, bristling with aggression. He froze in confusion when they discovered the place was entirely empty.

Close behind, Marian stood dumbfounded as she looked around the space. "What is this?" she asked in wonder.

Candles burned on a low table in the center of the small apartment, a fragrant bouquet of honeysuckles and gardenia perfuming the air close by. A large bed nestled against the wall with brightly patterned blankets, and a small stove stood near an open fireplace, currently dark. Plush, red carpets covered much of the floor and matched the curtains hanging at the windows.

Cullen put away his weapons and closed the door. "This doesn't look like a thieves den to me. In fact, I would say it more closely resembles…" He broke off and blushed, looking away.

"The Blooming Rose?" Marian lifted her brows innocently. "Perhaps the same person decorated this place." She wandered to the table and touched the velvety white blossoms of the gardenia. She might not prefer flowers as a gift, but that didn't mean she didn't appreciate them.

A letter with her name on it was leaning against the vase and caught her eye. Picking it up, she broke the seal and began to read.

_Hello Sweet, _

_As clever as you are, I'm sure you've discovered by now that there actually are no thieves with the relic for you to slaughter on my behalf. _

_I know how disappointed you must be, so please feel free to use the space to practice smiting technique with your delicious templar, which is actually the point of my little ruse._

_The two of you have been throwing off enough sexual heat to scorch the whole city, and while I approve of that, I find myself curious to see a satisfied smile on your pretty face for once. I hope your man is at least capable of that much? _

_The loft belongs to a friend of mine, so don't worry about anyone disturbing you- I've arranged it so you have the entire night! Have fun, and if you want to invite me to join the two of you next time, I could show you both some wonderful little tricks. We might even _

Marian folded the note without reading further. The unmistakable blush on her face attracted Cullen's attention, and curious, he drew closer.

"What's that?" He reached for the letter and she thrust it behind her back and out of his reach.

"Nothing! Just…this is Isabela's idea of a friendly joke. Getting us alone, I mean. She wants us to have privacy…together, and alone." She drew a hand across her eyes. "Maker, I sound like an idiot. You don't want to read this, trust me."

"Actually, I rather do. May I see it?" Marian shrugged and thrust the letter at Cullen, turning her back to walk across the room and inspect the bed. It looked clean and inviting.

A strangled noise came from Cullen a moment later. She turned to see him still staring down at the words on the parchment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He looked at her, his eyes wide with shock.

"She said her…and _we_…it!…"

He flung the letter down on the table in disgust and shook his head. "I think I need to go to the Chantry and pray, and perhaps do penance for the images in my mind. I wish I hadn't read that now, I feel tainted."

Marian sat on the edge of the bed after shrugging off her weapons harness and setting it aside, giving him a sympathetic look. "I _did_ try to stop you, remember? I ceased reading after she offered to show us some tricks. I'm assuming you made it to the end? Isabela tends to get worse the longer she goes on about something, particularly sex."

Cullen shed his sword, shield and gauntlets, and came to sit next to her, running a hand across her back gently. "Yes, you did warn me, didn't you? I suppose you'll make some rash claim of always being right, or I should always heed your advice."

She laughed and leaned her shoulder against his. "I'm wrong far more often than right, love. Just ask Carver, I'm sure he'll be only too happy to tell you of all my shortcomings."

Reaching out, Cullen turned her face toward him, a soft smile on his lips. He stared at her until she felt self-conscious enough to fidget. "What?"

He grinned. "I can't just look at you because you're beautiful? Is that not reason enough?"

She scooted back and turned until she was reclining comfortably on her back. "If you say so. It just looked like you were really thinking about it, that's all."

He took one of her hands between both of his, admiring her long, slender fingers before glancing up. "I suppose I was. You called me love and I like it. I was trying to settle on what endearments I might use for you."

Marian brushed her hair out of her eyes, and pursed her lips in consideration. "Honey bunches, or maybe sugar lips? Oh! I know: 'my sassy little dumpling'."

Cullen laughed and shook his head. "Those are _terrible_. I don't think I've ever heard anyone actually use any of them, thank the Maker. I was thinking more along the lines of "beloved" or "my heart". They are both true, although if you really prefer I call you 'my sassy little dumpling'…" He grimaced as though he were in pain and she giggled uncontrollably.

"Just hearing those words out of your mouth was priceless, my proper darling. You may call me whatever you choose." Her fingers stole across the top of his leg teasingly, slowly working her way to his inner thigh.

He captured her wandering hand and pinned both of her wrists to the bed, looming over her. "Perhaps 'beloved minx' would be the most accurate pet name, now that I think of it." He kissed a path along her jaw line and she gasped in mock offense.

"Ser, I will have you know that I give my favors and affections to only one man, and only when he enthusiastically persuades me."

Pulling back, Cullen lifted a brow. "_Enthusiastically_, is it?"

She grinned, then gasped for an entirely different reason when his hands wandered freely across her body. "Oh yes," she purred against his ear. "I greatly admire enthusiasm, if you recall."

He rose from the bed, a slight smile on his face, and made quick work of removing his armor and clothing before returning to take her in his strong arms again. While he was occupied, she had seized the opportunity to strip off her leathers and underthings.

"I've missed touching you, my beloved Marian" he whispered against her collarbone, kissing his way down her body. "Let me show you how much."

Marian made a mental note to buy Isabela a bottle of the best aged whisky coin could buy, before calloused fingers stroked her in such a way to scatter all her thoughts.

She opened her legs, eager, trying to entice him to take her with the same desperate fierceness of their first time together, but he was not to be rushed. Not this time. His lips explored her breasts meticulously, no inch was left untouched. Even as her blood sang from his attentions, she wanted more, much more.

Cullen tried to make up for all the time he had suffered without her, savoring her slowly, like a fine wine too precious to be gulped in a greedy hurry. Her pleasure was his greatest desire, and he focused on it to the exclusion of all else. He knew words would never be enough to convey the depth of his feelings, and he hoped his devotion was evident in his touch.

Wishing to hurry him along, she shifted restlessly and felt his smile against the skin of her belly before he dipped his tongue into her naval, sending a jolt of sensation along her spine. He was patience personified, calmly pursuing his goal as though he were the very master of time, and the slow simmer of arousal coursing through her veins approved his actions.

Closing her eyes, the world around her faded away like a half-remembered dream. Cullen was the only reality, weaving gossamer threads of sensation along her skin almost effortlessly, it seemed.

She sighed deeply, echoing the way his own breath caught in his throat when he finally joined their bodies, having forgotten the overwhelming fullness of complete possession. His touch seemed confident and right, and she reveled in it.

Cullen was drowning in her, surrounded by her taste, scent, and the gripping tightness when her body accepted him and drew him deeper. It was almost too much. A wild hurricane of ecstasy beating against his control. It was an epiphany that was as simple as it was profound: _this_ is what love feels like, in all of its facets; untamed, an unstoppable force that swept you up and devoured your will to resist until love was all you knew.

His deep caresses inside of her brought her to the brink and guided her over with him. Caught up in a powerful peak, Marian felt her shield waver alarmingly and realized she was leaking magic into the air around them. In an instant, fear gripped her, replacing all thoughts of pleasure. It was like being pulled in two directions at once. She slammed the invisible door on her magic with all the force she could muster.

How had it happened? Had he noticed? She watched him carefully from under her lashes and wrapped her limbs around his when he curled into her contentedly. He smiled lazily, his eyes soft with many things unspoken. He kissed her a final time before laying his head back and drifting off into a deep slumber.

She couldn't sleep. Worry gnawed at her. Her control around him seemed to be eroding, and she was so tired of all the endless deception. He was the one person she wished she didn't have to hide from. Cullen loved her, she was secure in that. She had seen a change in him since they had first met. Might he not love her enough now to go on as before and keep her secret?

She owed him her trust. When the opportunity presented itself, she decided she would reveal everything to him. He was loyal and devoted and would surely stand beside her, despite what he had been taught.

Soon, very soon. Content in her new resolve, she smiled and snuggled deeper into Cullen's arms, finally joining him in sleep.

* * *

With lips pressed in a thin line, she sat at her dressing table and examined herself critically in the looking glass. Her new tattoo was pale and complimented her eyes, she thought. The braids she wore her hair in now were not only practical but pretty. _He _would probably have liked them. The natural, deep red of her lips always garnered her the most attention, and his greatest admiration.

_I've never met anyone like you, so perfectly suited to my secret wishes and desires. It's like the Maker created us for each other._

She sneered at the remembered voice that lingered insistently in her mind and opened her jars of cosmetics, starting with shadowing her eyes first. If only there were a way to purge those two years from her life.

_I don't care what I have to do or who I have to defy, I will find a way for us to be together, I swear it! You're the only woman I'll ever love, I must have you. Give yourself to me and you will never have cause to regret it._

Frowning, her hand stole hesitantly to a small drawer on her vanity. Pulling it open, she slipped the faded note out and allowed her eyes to skim the messy scrawl of words, though she had long since memorized it. A seething mix of emotions burned in her chest while she read.

_Tarohne,_

_I don't know how she found out, but she's sending me away immediately. I haven't been told where. I'm not strong enough to fight her decision, dearest, I wish I was. My severed head displayed for all to see would hardly help either of us, and I want to live! I dare not defy her when I am clearly in the wrong and have broken faith with my entire Order. I can only hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for being weak._

_I offer one final proof of how genuine my love is for you: she intends to make you tranquil. Run now! Run far! Your phylactery is no more, I have seen to it. My last hope is that if I do not see you again in this life, that we will at least be reunited at the Maker's side if He sees fit to grant us mercy._

_Markus_

Her expression darkened until the yellowed letter caught alight with a small lick of magical fire and turned to ash in her hand. She didn't need it or _him_ holding her back any longer, binding her to the past and the stupid girl she had been before. Blowing away the dust she reached for her kohl pencil to outline her eyes.

_I love your mouth best. Your lips are the color of the tender, sweet flesh of a cherry. I can so easily lose myself in your kiss._

With determined hands, she unscrewed the top off a small container of lip paint when a knock sounded at her door.

"Come," she called, daubing over her naturally vibrant red lips with the stark white she wore exclusively since she had begun to pursue her new goals.

Ira walked in and sat nearby, watching silently while she finished up with a light dusting of powder.

"What news do you have for me," she slanted her eyes to the side with a sly smile. "_Idunna_?"

Ira looked down and sighed. "I wish you wouldn't always call me that name you picked. At least not when we're alone. I hear it too much as it is." When she received no response, she hurried on. "There are two more since we last spoke. They are eager to come to me again at week's end. Shall I bring them to you then?"

Standing, she looked down at the younger mage thoughtfully and walked across the room and picked up her grimoire.

"Yes. I'll perform the ritual as soon as you arrive. That will make an even half dozen. Well done, Ira. We will reach our goal soon." Her white lips twisted in a cruel smirk. "That _bitch_, Meredith, will run mad before the year is out, mark my words."

Ira stood, her fingers twisting anxiously. "I hope so, Tarohne. Not that I mind doing my bit for the cause, but I am getting a little tired of being constantly pawed by sweaty old men, which seems to be the majority of my clientele of late. You did say I wouldn't have to stay at the Rose forever."

Tarohne waved a hand dismissively. "When our scheme is finished and not before. Do not lose sight of our ultimate plan, Ira, for your sake as well as mine. I don't think it will be much longer now."

She squeezed Ira's hand firmly in farewell and watched her walk out. Turning back to her grimoire, she flipped through several pages, proud of all the news spells she had added by diligent research. No spell was beyond consideration. It was only the previous Chantry indoctrination of _approved_ and _forbidden_ magic that had held her back. There was no such thing.

_But you're good, Tarohne. I trust you completely, my love. I know you would never turn to blood magic or betray my trust. If only more mages were like you, there would never be any trouble between mage and templar. Maybe someday we could even be free to love each other openly. Wouldn't that be a day worth celebrating?_

She slammed the book shut violently. "_Damn_ you, Markus," she hissed. "I will find a way to silence you. I will not be defeated by your imaginary voice in my head!" She spun in a complete circle, half expecting him to answer, although she knew it wasn't really possible. She wasn't losing her mind. She wasn't!

"One way or another, you and your kind will pay for how you used me. No one makes a fool of Tarohne." Turning to the looking glass, she stared at her own wild-eyed reflection and whispered in a trembling voice, "I swear it by my own blood, every templar in Kirkwall will _pay_."

* * *

~o~


	9. Chapter 9

_I have been waiting for someone like you_

_But now you are slipping away... _

_Why, why does fate make us suffer?_

_There's a curse between us, between me and you._

_~What Have You Done by Within Temptation~_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Marian hummed the latest tavern ditty under her breath, heading for the Chanter's board to check on the newest job postings. In truth, Varric kept them supplied with almost more work than they could reasonably handle, but she liked helping average folk too.

She had already managed to save more than the fifty sovereigns required for the expedition into the Deep Roads, but for some reason she keep stalling, finding new excuses to put off the final preparations. She didn't want to examine her motives too closely, but she would soon be forced to stop stalling or miss out on the opportunity entirely. If that happened, she would never hear the end of it from Carver.

"Hey, Hawke, look at this one. A posting from a prince." Varric read the details and grinned widely. "Huh, good news. We already got rid of these Flint Company lowlifes he wanted disposed of. All we have to do now is go collect the reward."

"Really, a prince? Imagine that. We're moving up in the world, it seems," she answered absently, trying to inconspicuously eavesdrop on a rather distraught woman speaking to a templar.

She couldn't help herself, since she had become involved with Cullen, anything to do with templars instantly caught her notice. An altogether unhealthy obsession for an apostate.

Marian felt slightly better when she noticed Carver seemed to be listening just as intently. Either that, or he was eyeing out the woman, which really didn't bear thinking about.

"Did I hear you say your brother was missing?" she asked, walking up to the woman.

Varric strolled over to Carver and shook his head. "Is she already looking for more trouble? I thought we had enough to keep her occupied for the rest of the day."

Carver folded his arms and looked down at Varric. "Mari can't stand not to stick her nose in other people's business. She's always been like that. I suppose trouble is her middle name."

Rubbing at a smudge on Bianca's gleaming wood base, Varric smirked. "I thought her middle name was something far too unfortunate to ever be uttered aloud. Speaking of which, you wouldn't care to enlighten me while she's distracted, would you? I'll give you two gold for the information; I need to have something to threaten her with when she's beating me at cards."

Carver bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. "She'll beat _me_ if I ever tell, and with more than just her fists. Sorry dwarf, but she has too much dirt on me and I did give my word not to breathe _that_ sad family fact to anyone." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and held his hand out. "Give me the two gold and I'll tell you how to find out, though."

Varric held up a hand. "I'll pay you if your information turns out to be any good, now spill."

Putting a hand to his face to cover his mouth, Carver spoke quickly in a low whisper. "Get my mother to tell you the story about her favorite great aunt, and it will all come out."

Marian walked back over to them after the woman left, a crease of concern between her brows at the disturbing things she had heard about the Knight-Commander. If she would abuse her own people in strange rituals and ignore it when recruits went missing, what wasn't the woman capable of?

Why hadn't Cullen mentioned a problem with missing recruits? Granted, it had been almost a week since she last saw him, but still… Perhaps some things just weren't spoken of to outsiders.

There was a nice, aging templar stationed inside the Chantry that she had chatted with on several prior occasions. He was a bit addled but agreeable. She decided to find out if he knew anything first, before going all the way to the Gallows and talking to Cullen.

The fact that Varric and Carver were both staring at her with completely guileless expressions instantly set off warning bells. "Alright, what have you two been scandaling about while I was busy, hmm? I know those innocent faces."

"We were just making a bet, Hawke, as to how many _more_ poor sods you're going to end up helping before the end of the day, without making a single copper."

Marian looked taken aback. "That sounds like a terribly dull way to occupy yourselves. I thought you would at least be ogling Hightown ladies breasts, or something equally male." She shrugged when neither of them took the bait. "Let's go. I need to speak to someone in the Chantry."

"Who?" Carver fell into step on her left side out of long habit, and Varric took the right.

"Ser Wynstan. Some of the recruits have gone missing, including Macha's brother, that young lady I was just speaking with. He knows a lot more than he lets on, and I hope to talk him into sharing any information he has with me."

"More blasted templars," Carver muttered. "I think I'll wait for you out here."

"Suit yourself, brother," she said with a grin. "It's far easier to charm people when I don't have you glowering over my shoulder. You coming, Varric?"

Varric smiled. "I never miss a chance to watch you operate, Hawke. Even when it doesn't work out the way you plan, it's still entertaining."

They passed through the elaborately carved outer doors and into the cool interior, the air heavily scented with candle smoke, incense, and the sweat of dedicated worshippers. They had to wade through a thick cluster of people leaving, afternoon devotions having recently ended.

Hawke craned her neck, trying to see further back in the dim light. "He's usually somewhere near the alter. Oh, there he is."

She smiled engagingly and strolled up to the older man. It looked like his salt and pepper hair had actually been combed for once, a definite improvement.

"Good afternoon, Ser Wynstan, you're looking very dashing today."

He grinned widely, his chest jutting out slightly when he stood a bit straighter. "Good day, ah, hmm," he frowned and scratched his head. "Now don't tell me, I remember you're named after some type of bird. What was it again?"

Pouting, she rested a hand on her hip. "We agreed you would call me Marian the last time we spoke, remember?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course. I recall, certainly. How are you today? I trust you enjoyed today's sermon?"

"Absolutely. I got just as much out of it as I did yesterday's sermon. Actually, I overheard something distressing just now, and since we're friends I wanted to ask you about it."

Ser Wynstan nodded again, looking confused. "Jolly good, jolly good. How can I help?"

Hawke moved a little closer to him and pitched her voice to a low murmur. "I heard one of the templar recruits is missing and nothing is being done to recover him. Do you know why?"

He leaned a little nearer, happy to have a chance to pass on his gossip. "Many young recruits have been up to mischief, I hear. Spending all manner of time and coin in that den of iniquity, _The Blooming Rose_," he said in a harsh whisper, looking scandalized. "The poor Knight-Captain was even forced to go there and question some of those…women. Perhaps you could remember the brave man in your prayers. I should certainly never wish to have to set foot in such a place."

Marian felt a disturbing sense of foreboding settle over her, but smiled and tried to look relieved. "I'm very glad to know the templars have everything well in hand. It sets my mind at ease."

He patted her hand sympathetically and looked up when a man in white armor joined them and spoke.

"Ser Wynstan, your presence is requested in the north wing."

The templar looked startled, then pleased. "Thank you, Brother Sebastian, I'll go there directly." He turned to Hawke and smiled. "Maker watch over you, Marian. I hope you'll come and chat with me again, the next time you attend services."

She winked and nodded. "You can count on it."

He walked away and Varric stepped closer just as she realized the white-armored man was giving her a censuring look. His words had a soft, lilting quality, pleasing to the ear, and she wondered where he was from.

"You shouldn't take advantage of Ser Wynstan just to satisfy your craving for gossip, young lady. He is not as sharp as he once was, but he's a good man and deserves respect."

She raised a brow and glanced at Varric. "Is it me, or was I just verbally spanked by a stranger?"

Varric coughed to cover his laugh. "It wouldn't be the first time for you, Hawke."

The armored man crossed his arms and glared. "I am Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven and also a Brother in the Chantry."

Hawke snapped her fingers, looking pleased. "I believe you owe me coin for dealing with your little mercenary problem." Her eyes raked down his body critically. "Although, with that fancy armor, I wonder why you didn't sort them out yourself."

He looked shocked. "You…what? Who _are_ you?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure." She turned to her friend. "Who are we today?"

Varric bowed with a flourish. "How do you do, Messere? I am Varric Tethras, and this here is Marian Hawke, defender of children and widows, and the right arm of vengeance to all the wronged in Kirkwall."

Sebastian gave her a dubious look while she grinned down at Varric and answered in a quiet aside, "You've been working on that, I see."

Varric shrugged, affecting humility. "I though you'd like it."

Sebastian raised a brow. "Even if I believed your unusual claims, what proof do you have that you've fulfilled the terms of the bounty?"

Hawke stared at Varric, clearly at a loss short of flippantly offering to fetch the heads of those they had killed. Pulling a gold chain with a locket from his waist pouch, the dwarf held it out.

"Recognize this? We got it off one of the bodies."

Sebastian took it and cradled it gently in his hand, the sadness on his face a look Hawke knew only too well. Her heart was moved by compassion for his suffering. "This belonged to someone special to you?"

He nodded, his voice low and full of emotion. "Yes, my mother; she was very special." He glanced up, his vibrant blue eyes burning with the same frustrated sorrow and need for revenge that Hawke herself felt when her sister was slain.

"It won't bring her back, but perhaps her spirit will rest more easily, now that her killers are no more."

He regarded her intently, some of the darkness lifting from his features when he examined the hilt of the enchanted sword sticking up above her shoulder. "You have done me a great service, and I thank you for it." He pulled a purse from his belt and held it out. Hawke hesitated, on the verge of refusing the coin when Varric took it and gave her a look.

"I'm not surprised," Sebastian mused, "that you had success. That is a holy weapon you carry, blessed by the Divine. May I ask how you came by it?"

Hawke chewed her lip, wondering if she was about to get Cullen in trouble. "It was a gift from someone very dear to me. He trusted me to wield it with honor, and I have tried my best to fulfill his wishes."

Sebastian nodded his approval. "Was it left to you by your father, or an elder brother, perhaps? Blessed swords of that quality are rare and often prized as family heirlooms."

Hawke colored in embarrassment. "I have no relations among the Templar Order, Serrah. It was given to me by someone…else."

Her words hung heavy in the air. Sebastian looked puzzled but didn't press her further for an answer. "Again, you have my thanks for your help. I have business I must attend elsewhere, but I bid you both a good day."

Hawke drew in a relieved breath when they were free of the Chantry and smiled to see Carver chatting at the bottom of the steps with Merrill. Somehow they always managed to end up together. She found herself wondering if Merrill had some sort of blood magic tracer on her brother, then immediately felt guilty. Merrill would never do anything like that. Would she?

Varric was tying the purse Sebastian had given him to his belt and Marian clicked her tongue chidingly. "Did you think I was going to refuse to accept payment from the Prince, Varric?"

He huffed a laugh. "I don't _think_, Hawke, I _know._ You felt bad for him and guilty for taking his coin. It's why you have me around, to remind you that even do-gooders require provisions and new equipment. The Deep Roads won't pay for themselves either." He gave her a sly look. "By my calculations, you should have more than enough coin saved for us to get the show on the road, and we already have the maps. Or is there another reason you're stalling? Maybe a certain dashing Knight-Captain? I also know all about Isabela's little gift to the two of you."

"Is there anything you _don't_ know?" she asked in embarrassment and jogged away from the dwarf down the long flight of steps. She dearly wished there was a way to keep her romantic life private, but her friends loved to gossip, and frequently chose her as their favorite topic.

Grinning, Varric shook his head. "I don't know the color of your underwear or your middle name yet, Miss Hawke, but just give me time. Give me time." He twirled an arrow expertly between his fingers and whistled a jaunty tune while moving to catch up with the group.

* * *

Rubbing a weary hand across her forehead, Marian leaned against the stone pillar outside the Blooming Rose and looked at her companions. Breaking the spell over her mind that the whore, Idunna, had cast on her had taken a great act of will, as her throbbing temples bore witness. When she held her dagger to Idunna's throat, she had eagerly told them all about the plot to destroy the templars from within, through blood magic and demonic possession, and even gave up the location of their secret hideout and how to disarm all the traps. Stabbing her through the heart had felt more like a mercy killing than turning her over to the templars. Maker only knows what they would have done to her.

"I don't like this, Mari," Carver growled. "We _should_ go clear out that pit of snakes before they cause more trouble, but what if they get control of our minds, or even make us turn on each other?"

Merrill frowned. "That won't be a problem, Carver. I'll be on the lookout for any blood thrall spells and be sure to keep you all safe."

He looked surprised, his anger instantly diverted. "Oh. Well. Thanks, Merrill. I suppose we should go right away."

Marian nodded and pushed away from the pillar. Their destination was Darktown, and she only hoped it wasn't too late for the poor recruits.

* * *

"Shit," Marian whispered, having accidentally knocked into a barrel of something foul-smelling that sizzled where it spilt across the dirt floor.

Varric put out a hand to block her. "Look out, Hawke, you don't wanna step in any of that. It's an acidic poison, it'll eat right through your boots."

They crept quietly down a darkened hall and emerged into a large, open area. Varric stealthed and disappeared through a doorway, returning several moments later with a puzzled frown. "It's abandoned, Hawke, nobody's here."

"Somebody's here," Carver said, boldly walking to the other end of the room where someone was whimpering pitifully.

They followed Carver and examined the person suspended in blue light before them.

"It's a magical prison," Merrill added thoughtfully. She raised her hand and whispered a spell, then gave Hawke an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but he's held by blood magic. There's no other way to release him."

Hawke sighed and nodded. Merrill drew her small dagger and chanted in elvish, slashed a cut onto her palm and flung droplets of blood at the blue shield. It dissipated and Keran landed on the floor with a thud and a groan.

Kneeling down, Hawke helped the mostly naked Keran to struggle to a sitting position. "Keran? Can you hear me?"

He tensed and looked at the faces surrounding him, then sagged against Marian, turning to look her in the eye. "Yes, I hear you just fine. You're real, aren't you? Is it over? Did you kill those blood mages?"

She gave Merrill a warning look, and the little elf nodded subtly and wandered back toward the entrance. "Varric, could you try to find him some clothing, or see if they kept his armor?" Varric nodded and he and Carver went to search while she angled herself to support Keran more comfortably.

"Just relax. No one else will hurt you. Your sister was very worried about you, and I came to find you and bring you back. Do you think you can walk, perhaps in a few minutes?"

His face scrunched in anger. "You didn't answer my question."

She exhaled a breath upwards, sending the hair across her forehead fluttering. "No, Keran. You were the only one here when we arrived, but I did execute Idunna when she tried to ensorcell me. Does that help?"

"Some." He leaned away from her slightly, resting his weight on his palm.

Hawke stood and moved a few feet away, sensing he needed space. Carver and Varric returned with armor, boots and clothing, and dumped all of it next to the templar.

"My brother, Carver, will stay and help you dress, Keran. Varric and I will wait for you out front." Carver looked less than pleased but didn't protest aloud, his eyes more than speaking his annoyance for him when he glared at her.

Varric disabled a couple of traps they had missed on the way in, and when Carver finally emerged with Keran, the recruit was dressed in his templar armor and looking stronger than he had before.

Hawke had already asked Varric to see Merrill safely home. She asked Keran for directions and instructed Carver to go to Macha's house and let her know her brother was safely back at the Gallows, while she intended to accompany Keran and go and speak to Cullen about her findings.

Keran stayed quiet until they had made their way to the docks and were seated on the boat and underway. "You won't tell the other templars about what happened to me, will you?" He looked down in shame. "It would grieve my sister if she knew I let Wilmod talk me into going to the brothel. She's never liked him."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "I would keep your secret if I could, Keran, but I must tell the Knight-Captain about the plot against your Order. The culprits are still on the loose, and I'm sure you wouldn't want your brother templars to fall prey to the same thing you suffered."

Keran exhaled and looked at her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I wouldn't wish what I experienced on anyone. It was horrible. Awful. A naked woman with her claws in my chest. Always trying to force her way inside me. Offering me things…people. I-" His fingers raked through his hair and he blushed. "One of them even tried to trick me into believing it was you."

Marian chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "It's fine, Keran. It sounds like a desire demon. They pick images from our minds. Things they think we might want." She smiled wanly. "I'm sorry one of those awful spirits wore my face to torment you."

"No!" he exploded. "They couldn't fool me. It was nothing like you, you would never do or say-" He broke off and looked away. "I don't really know you, but what little I know of you…I wasn't deceived. I only hope Knight-Captain Cullen will believe I resisted everything they offered."

She smiled kindly. "I'm sure he'll believe you, Keran. You might even be surprised to discover he also had a bad experience with blood mages once. If you ask, he might even have some advice that can help you deal with the experience."

"Really?" He looked hopeful. "I will ask him, thank you, miss."

"You can call me Marian, I don't mind."

He nodded respectfully, the barest hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you, Miss Marian."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, standing to follow him off the boat. They walked from the docking area to the main courtyard and Keran was quickly surrounded by his fellow recruits.

"Keran, where have you been? Where is Wilmod?" A dark-haired man asked.

Hawke stepped forward and gave them all a stern look. "Keran has been feeling unwell and spent a bit of time in Kirkwall. I suggest you give him some space if you don't want to catch something." He gave her a grateful look. "Could one of you tell me where the Knight-Captain is? It's urgent I speak with him as soon as possible."

A young woman stepped forward. "Wilmod came back earlier but then left again. He said he wanted to take a walk along the coast to clear his mind. Knight-Captain Cullen went after him a short while ago. You should still be able to catch him if you hurry."

Hawke gave a curt nod and turned and dashed back to the boats, her mind racing. According to what Idunna had told them, Wilmod was one of the recruits who they had successfully implanted with a demon. If she told the truth, Cullen was in for a nasty surprise out on his own.

* * *

With pounding heart and hands sticky with nervous sweat, Marian broke into a run, her breath coming shorter and shorter. Still, she pushed herself onward, following the winding trail leading away from the city and praying she wasn't too late.

_Please, Maker, don't let anything bad happen to him._

The sun was well on it's way to setting, the slanting rays shining directly in her eyes and adding another unwelcome element. She couldn't help but remember the last time she had come down this path with Cullen. Definitely a more agreeable occasion.

She stopped briefly to bend over and rest her hands against her knees, but fear for Cullen had her moving again before the brief respite could do her any good. She passed the overlook where she and Cullen had come, but there was still no sight of him.

It was another ten minutes before she was forced to stop again, and dusk was pressing in all around, lengthening the shadows and changing the friendly vegetation to menacing dark spaces where danger could lurk.

A flash of light caught her eye just beyond the next rise. She stumbled forward, forcing the burning muscles in her legs to carry her up another hill. She gasped at what she saw before her.

Five shades, an abomination, and a rage demon were swarming around Cullen. He fended them off with his sword and shield as best he could, but his back was against the stone wall and even from the distance she was at, she could clearly see he was badly wounded and bleeding heavily.

She shouted to draw the attention of the demons and sprinted down the hill as quickly as she could without falling. Marian had never wished for her brother and his big sword, or one of her skilled companions as fervently as she did in that moment. How were the two of them ever going to fight off so many demons, and with Cullen injured too?

Drawing her sword and dagger, she rushed forward but was soon surrounded and in serious danger. Painful hits rained against her body from all directions, and she grew increasingly frustrated at her ineffective defense.

The rage demon disappeared from sight and she spun warily while continuing to attack the shades as best she could. She was familiar with a rage demon's surprise method of attack, yet it still managed to come up behind her and paralyze her for several precious seconds.

Her sword went flying from her hand when a shade struck her, and she released an enraged scream from the pit of her stomach and reached for the Fade with all her might, magical fists appearing and rending the shade in two.

Somehow, Cullen had managed to keep the abomination that was Wilmod, solely focused on him, and eventually managed to vanquish it while Marian was busy. His shock and horror at seeing her casting spells with the ease of a seasoned enchanter was more painful to him than the agony of his wound. He almost thought it a trick of the eyes, but his templar sensibilities couldn't be denied. She fought with magic, and it was powerful.

Marian mind blasted the other demons away with telekinetic force and summoned a gravitational ring to pull the demons into the center while she alternated ice and lightning spells, slowly killing them and scrambling to pick up her sword and cast a final ice spell on the rage demon. While it was frozen, both she and Cullen attacked it with their swords and Cullen bashed it with his shield, shattering it completely.

Dropping her sword from numb fingers, Marian closed her eyes, gasping loudly for air and shaking with shock and fear, unable to grasp the full reality of what had just happened. She opened her eyes to find Cullen's sword pointed at her, his face harsh and angry. He had dropped his shield in favor of clutching his bleeding side, but he was still on his guard.

She was seized by the mad desire to laugh. Wasn't it just the sort of thing she should expect from her life, that the man she loved would hold a sword to her neck with intent to kill? If she were a betting woman, she wouldn't take her odds for anything. But he wasn't just any man, was he? Cullen was a templar, and she was a mage who had tried to keep impossible secrets.

Still breathing heavily, she held his gaze and stepped forward, bringing the point of his sword into contact with the skin at the base of her throat. She barely felt the sting when it broke the surface and bit into her flesh, warm blood beading against cold steel.

"Do it, if you truly think me a monster." Her throat was dry and the words came out strangely. Her entire focus was on Cullen. So much so that she didn't even register the tears that streaked down her face, coursing through the sweat and dust there.

His face went though an array of expressions that she watched with an almost curious detachment. She catalogued them for the sake of memory should he actually allow her to live through the night.

First anger, then sadness when he let his gaze stray to his blade at her neck. After that, his face flushed red with pure rage and he flung his sword away with a cry like a wounded animal.

He stumbled back and fell to his knees, bending over and pressing both hands to the wound that continued to bleed, crimson rivulets seeping between his fingers and staining his gauntlets.

Marian wasted no time, closing the distance between them and reaching for the buckles on his breastplate. He didn't protest or move while she worked them all open, except to help her lift it off of him, grunting in pain when the small movement pulled at his wound. She reached for the edge of his tunic and began to pull it up so she could see how badly he was injured. Her breath caught in her throat at how deeply the demonic claws had ripped into his side, slicing through skin and muscle, it was like looking at raw meat at the butchers.

"Why didn't you tell me, Marian? You should have told me." His voice was so low and quiet she almost didn't hear the question. Trying to hide the panic she felt at having to attempt to heal his wound herself, she tried to think of a suitable answer. She had deliberately deceived him from the very beginning. What excuse could she offer, really?

_Sorry for being a lying prat, but I thought you might decide to kill me or make me tranquil. Forgive and forget? _

Marian shook her head and tried to recall the lesson Anders had given her on healing, but she couldn't remember what she had done to make it work, and _Andraste's pyre! _there was so much blood.

"Should I have mentioned it after you said mages weren't people, or I should have perhaps waited, until after you declared mages were monsters who would destroy cities with magical fire in a fit of pique, hmm? Those comments clearly erased any worry I might have had that you would act against me."

She hovered her hands above his wound and braced herself, slowly drawing forth cool healing from her well of mana when something went wrong with the spell. A quick surge of power passed through her, hot and strong, and forced Cullen's wound to close instantly with a loud sizzling sound, like fat frying over an open fire.

A strangled cry of pain forced itself from his throat. Her eyes widened in alarm when he grabbed her wrists and tackled her, rolling her beneath him and pulling the mana from her body forcefully. His harsh breaths sounded loud against her ear while she coughed weakly, reflexively, just as she had the only other time she had experienced a mana drain.

She couldn't even draw enough breath to explain she hadn't botched the spell on purpose, and that she was generally lousy at healing. Marian felt the quick drumming of his heart against her, through the thin layers of fabric that separated them. Her own was racing just as fast.

"Why?" His voice held all the hurt and betrayal she had feared, and more. She closed her eyes, feeling more beaten down and defeated than she ever had at _any_ time in her life before. There was wetness against her cheek and she wondered if the tears were hers or his.

"What do you want me to say, Cullen?" Her voice broke on his name and she swallowed and gulped air. "I'm sorry I deceived you." Her voice faded to a whisper of sound. "I'm sorry I'm cursed, so desperately sorry. More than you'll ever know."

His breath came more ragged with each exhalation. "Maker, Marian, _why_? You used me. Did you plan it all out?" His fingers tightened around her wrists in a punishing grip. "Did you laugh with your friends that I was so easily fooled? That I was so easily taken in by your charm and beauty? Your feelings for me were a lie too, weren't they?" His voice grew harsher and he jerked her arms, wanting an answer.

She was crying openly now, his accusations cutting into her like shards of jagged glass, tearing open her heart and hemorrhaging her lost happiness into the sand like discarded rubbish.

"I never, I swear I never did…there was no plan. I _love_ you…" The sob was trapped in her throat when he pressed his lips against hers, hard, punishing, the mingled tears across their lips tasting of sorrow, dirt, and bitter regret.

He pulled away suddenly and released her, wiping at the wetness on his cheeks. Standing, he gathered his weapons and discarded armor with jerky movements while she lay where he left her, like a frozen statue. Cullen never turned to look at her, but stood with his back to her for long moments, the silence loud between them. When he spoke again, he sounded almost normal except for an odd flatness to his words.

"You once asked me to imagine how I would feel if it were someone I loved that was cursed with magic." He paused, flexing a steel covered fist. "I don't have to imagine it anymore. Goodbye, Marian Hawke. May the Maker grant you mercy; I'm just not sure I can."

He walked away and didn't turn around or look back. Marian watched until he was out of sight to see if he would, and felt her last wisp of hope sink like a stone. Curling into a tight ball, she wept for all that they had lost, and all the things that would never be.

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